LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD: An Augury Origin Tale (2)
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: After defying the Dark Lord, pregnant Bellatrix is tortured within an inch of her life by the man she loves. A DARK, TWISTED tale in which Bellatrix spars with & confides in both her sister Narcissa, who's keeping her own secrets, and Hogwarts headmaster Severus Snape, whose loyalty she has long doubted, even as she questions her own. *CURSED CHILD SPOILERS* (Bellatrix/Voldemort)
1. Chapter 1: Insubordination

**LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD:**

 **An Augury Origin Tale**

* * *

Description & Disclaimer:

After defying the Dark Lord at a Death Eater's meeting, Bellatrix is punished within an inch of her life by the man whose baby she's carrying. A dark, twisted tale featuring Bellatrix/Voldemort in which she spars with and confides in both her sister Narcissa, who's keeping her own secrets, and current Hogwarts headmaster Severus Snape, a man whose loyalty she has long doubted, even as she begins to question her own.

This is the sequel to MISTRESS OF THE DARK LORD, which takes place in three months earlier in September, 1997. While it's not necessary to read that one first, it is recommended as it will make this one easier to follow. Both are inspired by Cursed Child and contain spoilers.

No trigger warnings (because I don't believe in them as an author nor do I appreciate them as a reader) but if dark, disturbing themes and sexual violence bother you, or if you're under 17, you should not read – this is about the relationships between Bellatrix/Narcissa an Bellatrix/Severus but also about the messed up 'relationship' between Bellatrix/Voldemort. It's not a fluff fic. Reviews appreciated! Thanks.

* * *

 **CHAPTER ONE:**

 **Insubordination**

"Auntie?"

Bellatrix opened her eyes… well, her eye. The one she could manage. Fuck, what happened? Her head pounded. Everything hurt. Why couldn't she open the other eye?

"Auntie? Are you awake?" Draco's voice sounded so small, the way it had when he was a baby, before she went to Azkaban. "Auntie" was one of his first words. "Auntie, can I come in?"

Bellatrix intended to say no, to tell her nephew to return later, but all that came out of her mouth was a hoarse growl. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Draco," she whispered. Not loud enough.

"Auntie Bella?" The doorknob turned. It occurred to her she could wave her hand and lock it, the way she usually did before bed, but when she tried to raise her arm she was overcome with pain and weakness and an unfamiliar sore feeling. She looked down with her one good eye. Bruises greeted her, speckled across her upper arm and right wrist, reminding her of the night before. Or was it two nights before? What day was it, anyway?

"It's Christmas morning." Draco let himself into the room, answering the question she hadn't asked out loud. "I came by yesterday, but Mum said you couldn't see me."

"Yesterday?" she whispered. She had no recollection of yesterday, Christmas Eve day.

"You were supposed to work with me on my Occlumency lessons," said Draco, shutting the bedroom door behind him. "And on throwing off the Imperius Curse. Remember?"

"I… remember." Why did it hurt to talk? She remembered Him grabbing her by the arms, forcing her up against the wall… forcing his way into her mind… but her throat? She didn't remember Him touching her throat. And her eye? She blinked. It hurt. Why?

"You look… you don't look… are you okay?" Draco hovered nervously by the end of the bed, afraid to come closer.

"Sit," said Bellatrix, indicating the space by her feet. She pulled herself into a sitting position, cross-legged, ignoring the pain in her lower body. What the hell happened?

"Do you need anything?"

"Why are you speaking to me as if I'm an invalid?" she sneered, but with her voice raspy and weak she knew her question hardly had the effect she'd desired, which was to scare him so he'd stop looking at her that way – like she was a wounded puppy.

"You angered You-Know-Who at the meeting the other day," explained Draco. "He asked to see you later. He… have you looked in a mirror?"

"No. Get me one."

Using his wand, Draco summoned a small, ornate hand mirror from the dresser, one that had belonged to his maternal grandmother. He handed it to his aunt.

It took all of her strength not to gasp upon taking in the sight of her face. The eye she couldn't open was swollen shut. There was a bruised oval from her eyebrow to her cheekbone that looked so black when she touched it she half-expected it to come off on her fingers, like charcoal. Beyond the black was a ring of deep purple, and surrounding that, blotches of red.

She also had swelling above her lip, which appeared to have been bleeding recently, though she supposed the blood crusted there could have come from her nose.

She tilted the mirror above her to see down. Now she knew why it was difficult to speak. She had raised purplish marks in the front around the sides of her neck. Clearly He'd choked her. He had done this before – during sex – and a couple of times He'd left a mark, but never, NEVER like this. She placed her fingers gingerly against the bruising on the center of her throat and fought back a sick feeling swirling in her stomach. Her stomach! The baby. Was the baby…? She couldn't say anything, not to Draco, not to anyone, but suddenly terror gripped her. What had the Dark Lord done to her? Had his fury cost her their baby?

"Auntie?"

"I cannot help you with Occlumency today, Draco," she said. "Perhaps tomorrow."

"Okay," he said, averting her gaze. "Also, Father was wondering…"

But whatever Lucius was wondering, she didn't find out, because at that moment (without knocking!) the door opened again and in walked Narcissa.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She closed the door behind her. "Did Draco ask you what you want to eat?"

"Eat?" Bellatrix put the mirror down beside her on the bed, her other hand not leaving her throat. "I can't eat."

"You must," said Narcissa. "Draco, leave us."

He nodded, jumping up from the bed, seemingly relieved. When he was gone, Narcissa used her wand to lock the door.

"This is your punishment for insubordination?" asked Narcissa, settling into the spot her son had just vacated. "For a moment of impertinence He beat you to within an inch of your life?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Bellatrix, haughtily.

"You're right," said Narcissa. "I understand why we're on the side we're on, but I don't understand why you worship Him, why you willingly give yourself to him, why you…"

"Rodolphus left me."

"What?"

"Yesterday. I remember now. When Draco woke me, I was confused, but it's coming back." Bellatrix rubbed her temples. Damn it. Not only had she endured public humiliation when the Dark Lord threw her out of their meeting, but then He'd made her pay for it repeatedly later that night, and the next day she was dumped by her lousy husband.

"Why… why did he leave you? What did he… say? I… Lucius told me Rodolphus decided to bunk in with Rabastan, but I assumed… with you in your condition… I thought…"

"You assumed he simply didn't want to be around me on account of I'm broken?"

Narcissa's eyes widened. "No! No, Bella, that's not what I…"

"I'm pregnant."

"I… you're what?"

Bellatrix hugged her knees to her chest. Fuck. Everything hurt. Including… there.

"I need to be alone, Cissy."

"Bella, please, if you need me…"

"I don't need anyone, Narcissa."

Narcissa's face flushed. She knew she'd said the wrong thing. If there was one thing her sister truly feared (beside disappointing the Dark Lord) it was demonstrating weakness.

"I'm here," she said softly, rising from the bed. "I'll return later."

Bellatrix did not respond. As soon as the door was closed, she wandlessly charmed it locked. She now vividly remembered the Death Eaters meeting two days before, the day before Christmas Eve. It was shortly after lunch. The Dark Lord was planning something to trap Harry Potter and his rotten friends, the blood-traitor and that muggle girl, should they attempt to contact crazy Lovegood at his home, as the Dark Lord suspected he might. They were already holding Luna Lovegood, the Quibbler editor's only daughter, in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix closed her good eye, trying to remember what He'd said, what she'd been responding to, what had made Him so angry, but it wouldn't come to her. Dammit. All she could remember was His reaction. He sat back, slightly bemused, and regarded her slowly, His eyes traveling down her body and back up again in a way that made her shiver.

"You dare to question me and my methods, Mrs. Lestrange?" He asked in his usual quiet hiss. Her intestines twisted. He never called her Mrs. Lestrange, not ever, save for the occasional moment in bed in jest, which she understood He did simply to remind her that she was a Missus in name only, because – as he often reminded her – she belonged to him.

"Sir," she'd said, ready to apologize and beg forgiveness, but He waved a hand dismissively.

"Go on," He said. "Out."

"On? Out?"

"You are dismissed."

"Dis… dismissed?"

"From the meeting."

She glanced around the table at her fellow Death Eaters, trying to hide her panic. "Dismissed? For how long?"

"Out."

"Out?"

"Have you lost your ability to comprehend what is being said to you? Rodolphus, escort your wife from the room. Her presence is no long required here."

Rodolphus hopped up from his chair, overly eager to comply, perhaps to make it clear to everyone that he showed no favoritism to his own wife. He grabbed her by the elbow, lifted her from her chair, and hurried her toward the door.

"My Lord?" she said, unwilling to be cast out, desperate to be punished so she could be forgiven.

"Goodbye," He said.

Rodolphus pushed her out and shut the heavy drawing room door behind her. She leaned against it, fighting angry tears. How dare He cast her out! How dare He embarrass her in front of everyone! How dare He treat her this way, when she was doing nothing more or less than trying to help Him! Furious, she stalked off to her room, shooting an undeserved dirty look at a bewildered Draco when they passed each other in the hall.

Back in her bedroom, she paced back and forth, positively fuming.

Hours later He summoned her alone to His chambers. Setting aside her anger, she entered prepared to beg forgiveness, as she should have at the meeting. He would have none of it.

Grabbing her by the upper arms, He forced her against the wall so roughly her head banged back into it.

"Shit," she swore. He showed no mercy."

"Who do you think you are, Bellatrix Lestrange, to question me in front of my Death Eaters? Who do you think you are to question me at all? You think because of this –" his eyes darted down to her midsection, which had begun to expand rather rapidly in the last several weeks to make room for the baby she was carrying – "You are entitled to special privileges?"

"No, my Lord..."

"Correct." He removed his right hand from her left upper arm but relief was brief. His fingers tangled themselves in her thick, wild hair, as He pulled her head back so she was staring straight up at the ceiling.

"My Lord…" She tried to plead for mercy, but He was having none of it.

"You think your condition earns you special privileges, do you? You think you are safe from my wrath? You think you can…"

"No, my Lord," she began, but He pulled her hair harder.

"You think you can interrupt me? Have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

Bellatrix took in a sharp breath. No, she hadn't forgotten. She hadn't forgotten – had He? Had He forgotten who she was? His most loyal servant? The woman who'd made herself available to Him in any way – in every way! – since she was seventeen years old? That woman He'd chosen to co-create and carry His heir? She clenched her teeth.

"Well? Answer me," He hissed, releasing her hair so they could make eye contact. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

"I believe you mean to ask, 'have you forgotten to whom you are speaking,'" she answered, aware that those might be her very last words.

But to her surprise, after a moment's pause, the Dark Lord laughed.

"Oh, Bella," he said, not releasing her right arm, but loosening his grip. His slid His other hand around her waist to rest on her lower back. "Crazy Bella. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in that mind of yours…"

Without further indication of what He was about to do, the Dark Lord plunged into her mind, probing. Despite her proficiency at Occlumency (which He taught her over two decades before) she was caught off-guard, which, of course, meant the first thing He saw was the last thing she would want Him to see.

"You were with him?" the Dark Lord snarled. He shoved her against the wall and backed away.

"He's my husband," she said weakly, knowing that was hardly a sufficient response.

"When?"

"Last night."

"I gave you clear orders." His eyes flashed as He raised His wand. She shrunk back, terrified. The orders He was referring to had been given months earlier, back when He indicated that she no longer needed to be so "careful" about avoiding becoming pregnant, a surprising change considering His violent reaction the one previous time she actually had.

In her bed in the room she, until the day before, shared with her useless husband, Bellatrix shuddered. What had she been thinking? What was wrong with her? It was the damn baby, it had to be. The damn baby had been messing with her hormones since week one, turning her into a walking mess of contradicting emotions and impulsivity.

In September, after she learned she was pregnant, visited her younger sister Andromeda for (forced) advice, and revealed her condition to the Dark Lord, she started to feel like herself again. October and November passed uneventfully (as uneventful as war time could be, that is). But in December, the weight gain began. Not the little bit she experienced for the first three months, which saw her breasts growing one cup size but a hardly noticeable change to her midsection. Suddenly, she was gaining weight, significant weight, and struggling to hide it. She began wearing her Death Eater robes to all Death Eater meetings, uncharacteristic of a woman who, in the past, didn't even bother with robes and a mask when attacking Muggles or invading the Ministry. She never felt she had anything to hide before – she wanted the world to know where her loyalties lay – but suddenly all of her corsets and dresses were either uncomfortably tight or completely un-wearable and every day she wondered when those closest to her (namely Narcissa and Rodolphus) would notice.

She also worried, just a little, that her secret would be leaked to those blood-traitors and Mudbloods in the Order of the Phoenix, by none other than Andromeda, whose daughter and son-in-law were loyal to Dumbledore no matter what it might mean in regards to the safety of their own unborn child.

Despite the nagging anxiety over being found out and the building desire to find and destroy the so-called Golden Trio, everything was fine in the life of Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

Except one thing.

He wouldn't touch her.

He hadn't touched her since she told Him.

In September.

Over three months ago.

And she was dying to be touched.

She blamed this on the baby too. In the past, her sex drive (if it could be called that) was wrapped up entirely in Him. She didn't desire a shag, she desired Him. She didn't want to be fucked, she wanted to be fucked by Him. Which is why she viewed literally every single sexual encounter with her husband as a chore required by their marriage vows, one that had to be done frequently enough to avoid an issue, but also as infrequently as possible because she hated it.

Which is why it made no sense at all that she responded to him the way she had.

Three nights ago, somewhere after midnight (so technically two mornings ago) she'd awoken to a not-unpleasant feeling on her left arm. She was sleeping on her side, as usual, facing away from her husband.

"What the hell are you playing at?" she asked, debating whether to pull away.

"You're filling out," he said. "I noticed when you changed for bed tonight. You looked good."

"Filling out?" She rolled onto her back. "Am I a twelve-year-old who's just hit puberty?"

"You're an underfed forty-something who's suddenly developed a figure," he said. She scowled, but allowed him to continue lightly running his fingertips across her inner forearm.

"So as you're aware," she said, turning to face him, "Calling a woman 'a forty-something' won't exactly make her want to hop into bed with you."

"You're already in bed with me." His hand snaked from her arm to her ribcage, brushing just barely against the bottom of her breast. "You're my wife."

"Don't remind me." Her tone was acidic, but she didn't stop him from moving his hand higher. He cupped her breast and squeezed. Despite her loyalty to the man she called her Master, when Rolophus leaned over to kiss her she accepted his tongue in her mouth, rolling onto her back, and raked her nails roughly up to his shoulders.

Fuck, it had been so long since the last time anybody touched her.

As much as the thought of being with him repulsed her, to be perfectly fair, her husband was a good kisser. 'He kisses like a woman,' she thought as he continued to explore her mouth, 'All softness and without force.' The Dark Lord never kissed her like that. He claimed her mouth the same way He claimed her body: insistently, possessively, and generally without unnecessary tenderness.

Rodolphus' mouth made its way from her lips to her neck to her chest. He flicked his tongue under the material of her nightgown and she moaned. Using one hand, he pushed aside the fabric and took her nipple into his mouth.

Damn, it felt good. She closed her eyes and tried to envision herself at seventeen again, in the bed of the Dark Lord, but for perhaps the first time ever the fantasy failed her. Rodolphus' free hand slid down her side to her hip as momentarily she panicked, sure he would realize she'd gained weight in more than her chest.

"Don't," she said, moving his hand back up.

He looked at her quizzically but did not argue, no doubt just happy in the fact she wasn't denying him.

The sex itself was fine. Her husband had never been a master in the bedroom, but she supposed he was adequate so long as she kept her expectations low, and he got her off (for a change) which was, in her opinion, all that mattered. Shortly thereafter she fell asleep, never intending for anyone to find out about it.

Certainly never intending for the Dark Lord to probe her mind and witness it Himself.

A knock at the door made her jump. Assuming Narcissa had returned, she waved the lock charm off the door and called in a still-raspy voice, "Enter."

"Good morning," came the silky, expressionless voice of one of her least favorite people. "So lovely to see you."

Bellatrix hastened to pull up her comforter, hiding as many of her visible injuries as possible, determined not to appear weak in front of this loathsome man.

"It would be polite for you to return my greeting," he chastised condescendingly. She glared at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?"


	2. Chapter 2: Whore

**CHAPTER TWO:**

 **Whore**

"You're looking well, I see," said Severus Snape, closing the door, a smirk on his pale face.

"Fuck you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange, for that very attractive offer, but I doubt I can afford you on a professor's salary."

"You couldn't afford a moment with me if you were the wealthiest man in the entire United Kingdom," she replied flirtatiously, almost like a challenge. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Tell me, what does the Dark Lord gift you in exchange for letting him do…" he indicated her face with a swirl of his right index finger, "This?"

Her good eye flashed dangerously. "You think I asked for this?"

"I think you've been _asking for it_ for a good twenty-five years."

"You're jealous," she snapped, clearly ruffled. "Jealous because I'm His most loyal, His most respected, His most valued…"

"Yes," Snape drawled, an amused glint in his eye. "Yes, I'm jealous. Can you imagine how many times I've cried myself to sleep because the Dark Lord has never once indicated his desire to hold me down and fuck me until I was near-death? The jealousy... it consumes me."

"Yes, well, I've always imagined you'd have been happier as Dumbledore's little plaything," she countered. "I've heard rumors about the sort he was into. And you have called him one of the _greatest_ wizards of all time. Why is that, Severus? Why so loyal to your other master? In how many ways did he work you over there at Hogwarts?" Snape did not react. She pressed on. "You _are_ jealous of me. You all are. You all know that I am the _only_ one the Dark Lord desires."

Snape smiled cruelly. "How can you be so naïve, Bellatrix? You're not the _only_ one; you're the _most accessible_ one. You, of all people, should know that. You know that He's had others. You've had others _with_ Him, haven't you? I've heard rumors too… rumors about tortured Muggle women… rumors about willing young women seeking the Dark Mark… rumors about you and your own sister…"

She tensed. He'd gotten to her, especially with that last one, not that she'd admit it. "You shouldn't put stock in such ridiculous rumors, Severus."

"Forgive me," he said without a trace of sincerity. "May I sit?" Without awaiting her response he settled himself at the end of the bed in the same place both Draco and Narcissa had occupied. Bellatrix looked him over, considering her next move, as if she were in the middle of a game of Wizards Chess and trying to determine the best way to take his queen. Finally, she settled for basic inquiry.

"Why are you here? I didn't send for you."

"No," confirmed Snape. He pulled a green glass bottle from a small bag he'd hidden in his robes. "And trust me, there are far better places I would like to be on Christmas day, but alas - the Dark Lord sent me. He has something for you."

Her heart leapt. Maybe He wasn't angry anymore. Maybe she was forgiven! Oh, if only she could remember what happened the other night. She _had_ begged forgiveness, hadn't she? She must have.

"Knock it off," admonished Snape. "You look like a puppy who thinks she's about to receive a treat. It's pathetic."

This, too, ruffled Bellatrix, so again she attempted to hit him where it would hurt most. "You'd know all about being pathetic, wouldn't you? How's your darling girlfriend's son doing? Still on the run with his friend? Too bad your little Muggle-born didn't live to see what a nuisance he'd turn out to be, eh? Wasn't the brightest, was she? Trusting that rat Pettigrew. Poor, sad, stupid girl."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he struggle to remain in control. "What do you know of it?"

"The Dark Lord told me everything," she answered, happy to have the upper hand again, her voice teasingly full of condescension, the same tone she used when mocking young Longbottom about his parents in the Ministry of Magic. "He told me all about how you _begged_ Him to spare Lily Potter, how He actually _tried_ to do so but then the little bitch wouldn't step aside, so He _had_ to kill her too." She put on a pout, feigning sympathy. "Do _you miss_ her? Did you _love_ her? Did you love that _Mudblood filth_ , even after she tossed you aside and married Potter? Hmm? You seem surprised by how much I know, but He told me all about that night after He came back, Severus. As I said, He told me _everything._ We do more in bed together than sleep, you know."

Taunting him, it felt so good, she almost forgot about the scale of her injuries… for a moment.

"I'm aware that you do more than sleep," Snape said, hand clutched so tightly on his wand that his knuckles had gone white. "Somewhere between talking about me and flatbacking for the Dark Lord, you apparently have time left over for Him to rearrange your face. Personally, I like you better this way. It's a good look for you. As damaged on the outside as you are on the inside. As long as we're discussing people from our past, did they ever find the man who murdered your stepfather three decades back? You must have been positively _heartbroken_ when he died. I'm told that the two of you were very… _close_."

The memory of her childhood abuse at the hands of her mother's husband chilled her worse than walking through a could he possibly know about what she'd been through? She'd only ever told the Dark Lord, and certainly He wouldn't have shared the information with Snape.

"What's wrong, Bella?" asked Snape, seizing his turn to feign sympathy. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Go to hell, Snape. That was low, even for you."

"Your words were just as nasty," he pointed out. "I was simply reminding you that two can play at that game. Besides, _you_ started it."

"Very mature!" She took on her baby voice. "Ickle Snapey says I started it, finks I can't finish it, does he? Seems to forget I always finish what I've started. You want to talk about my parents? Fine. Then let's talk about yours. I met your mother once, in Diagon Alley. Remember? I was helping my mother pick out a new broom for Andromeda's birthday. Your mother was nursing a black eye. What happened, Sevvy? Did your mummy walk into a door?"

"The same door _you_ walked into the other night, I'd presume," he drawled.

"You were a first year, Cissy was a fifth. I was two years out of Hogwarts. They said hello and exchanged pleasantries and after your mother walked away, I asked about her face - she wore makeup and dark glasses, but we could still see the bruising - and Mother said, 'That's the life she deserves for being a blood-traitor.' Does Lucius know you're a half-blood? Do your young Slytherins? I wonder whether they'd still respect you if they knew. I'll have to ask Draco his opinion. Oh, reliving old times, what fun! Hmm? Yes? No? Not going to respond? Whose tongue's the cat got now?"

He looked her over, cold, expressionless, for an uncomfortably long moment before asking, "How are your thighs?"

"I…" Whatever response she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. "Excuse me?"

"The bruising there was significant. He left his fingerprints across your skin."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, uncharacteristically speechless. How could Snape possibly know about the state of her thighs?

"In case you're wondering, and I know you are, I tended to you the other night, when he nearly killed you," Snape explained, completely devoid of empathy (probably deservingly so, all things considered). "You were passed out. You could barely breathe, your airway was obstructed by the swelling. I gave you this." He handed her the green bottle. "You can take more if your throat is sore. I would've come yesterday but I had pressing matters at Hogwarts. Your sister said she'd look in on you. This…" he pulled out a round blue tub, not labeled, "Contains a healing salve of my own creation. It will minimize the effects of the bruising, cut in half your recovery time, and provide you with some semblance of pain relief, though the discoloration of your skin will not be affected so you'll still look as though you've been run over by the Knight Bus. Here."

She took both and placed them on the small table beside her bed.

He sneered. "You're welcome."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why help me? You hate me."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I didn't say it wasn't!" She tossed her hair, arrogant as ever. "I simply asked why."

"The Dark Lord wants to ensure you'll live. As you said, you're _one of_ His most loyal servants." She opened her mouth, set to argue against "one of," but he cut her off, assuming she was reacting to the final word of his sentence. "Oh, did you think you were something more? Something more than a servant? Don't be ridiculous. Just because He's knocked you up doesn't make you any more or less than what you were before, will always be, and have always been. His servant."

"He…" She choked back the sudden urge to vomit, "He didn't 'knock me up,' thank you."

"Was it someone else then? Your husband? No, couldn't be. Lucius, perhaps? No, Lucius would've told me. He rather enjoys sharing the particulars of his many conquests... especially women he meets in alleyways."

She knew to what he was referring but refused to take the bait, instead seeking clarity. "You said I've been 'flatbacking' for the Dark Lord. What does that mean?"

Snape stared at her a moment, then let out an surprising laugh. "You haven't heard that term before? Think about it, Bellatrix. You'll figure it out if you put your mind to it. Or would you prefer I'd have said something less ambiguous? I could have gone with saying "you've been spreading your legs for Him," but when put that way, it sounds so crude. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, does He always leave you this way, or were the two of you trying something new?"

"You think I wanted this?" she asked, indicating the bruising on her neck and face.

"I have no idea what you're into, nor do I want to know, but I am aware that the two of you have left others in a similar state… albeit dead… so I assumed…"

"I was being punished for my insubordination at our meeting. He said I needed to learn a valuable lesson about my place."

"And did you learn it?"

"Fuck off. You can leave."

Snape stood but he did not make his way toward the door. "Why do you care that I know you didn't want this? In case you think I'm a complete dunderhead, let me assure you that I knew upon first sight of you that you couldn't have. I wasn't certain I could save you, and honestly, I don't know that I would have worked so hard to do so had the Dark Lord not demanded it himself. I've seen our fellow Death Eaters rape countless women since the start of the first war but never once have I seen one left in the deplorable condition in which I found you."

"He didn't rape me," she protested meekly, unwilling to believe otherwise, determined to defend Him if for no other reason than to prove she was indeed His most loyal.

"Don't be an imbecile," said Snape. "You said yourself you didn't ask for this."

"I'm sure He just got… carried away." Her tone changed as she tried a new approach, kneeling up on the bed, leaning toward him, one hand making its way up the front of his fitted black robes. "Do you ever get… carried away, Severus?"

Snape's lip curled in disgust. He shook his head, causing his greasy black hair to fall momentarily across his face, then backed up a step so she couldn't reach him. "He raped you. I'm not surprised you're still loyal to Him – we all are, no matter what we personally endure, because we believe in Him and our cause – but you're daft if you don't admit to yourself that He raped you. At first glance, I thought you were dead."

"He didn't want me to die," she said, certain her Master loved her even though He'd never said so, would never say so. "He _needs_ me."

Snape charged forward, grabbing Bellatrix by the upper arms, surprising her and shaking her slightly the way the Dark Lord had the night of their fight. "You say it as if it means something. As if it means He cares for you. He doesn't care for you; He _uses_ you. You're good at what you do – on a battlefield and, also apparently, in a bedroom – and He doesn't wish to lose that. But I've never in my life seen a woman so broken in the way you were after He was finished with you the other night. And you know some of the things I've seen. If you think that's love, or affection, or anything other than a mix of convenience and an innate need to assert His dominance, you're far stupider and more pathetic than I'd previously thought you were, and that's truly saying something."

He shoved her backwards onto the bed and turned so fast his cloak spun out, making him look like an overgrown bat about to be enveloped by his own wings. He was almost to the door when she called him back.

"Stop! Tell me what I looked like!" Bellatrix demanded. "I need to know."

He turned, sneering. "You know how you look now?"

She nodded.

"Well, you looked worse." He reached for the door handle.

"I don't remember what happened," she admitted. "I don't really remember yesterday. I don't remember anything about leaving His chambers and returning to my room. I barely remember how our fight began and I certainly don't remember being… being raped, if that's what happened. Tell me, Severus. Tell me what I looked like when you found me."

He paused. He sighed. He shook his head. Then, almost as if defeated, he returned to the bed and sat down.

For the second time, Snape stared at Bellatrix for an uncomfortably long moment, but she refused to break eye contact, unwilling to back down if he was ready for a fight, but also ready to push him away should he try to invade her thoughts using Legilimency.

"You really want to know? Fine. It was well after midnight when the Dark Lord summoned me away from Hogwarts. I reported to His chambers. He granted me entrance. You were passed out in the bed, but I didn't yet know it was you. He gestured your way and said, 'Don't let her die.' I said I would do all I could. He said, 'When you're done, return her to her bedroom, fetch her sister, and summon me.' That's when I realized it was you on the bed. Your face was covered by your hair. You'd been tortured, both with the Cruciatus curse and, more violently, without magic, in an apparent fit of rage. Your dress was torn and on the floor."

"Was I…?"

"You were wearing a slip. It left little to the imagination. The Dark Lord left. I do not know where He went. You were barely breathing. You were bleeding from your nose, your lip, a cut above your eye, and from…" He paused, adding somewhat delicately, "You were bleeding."

Bellatrix placed her hands on her lower abdomen, hoping to feel something, anything.

"My baby…?"

"Seems to be fine, but as I reminded the Dark Lord hours later, I am neither a midwife nor a healer; I'm not a nurse or a mediwizard. I am merely a school Potions Master. I apparated to my home on Spinner's End to retrieve the potion, the salve, and a few other supplies. When I returned you were no better or worse. I administered the potion first, so you could breathe. Then I set to cleaning you up."

"You cleaned me up?" Her cheeks stung with humiliation at the notion of being cared for by the contemptuous Severus Snape, a man whose loyalties she'd long doubted, a man she'd goaded into making the Unbreakable Vow with her sister last year in great part because she'd hoped he would fail and die for it. She couldn't stand the thought of having been an invalid at his mercy. Not to mention the sheer embarrassment of having shown such weakness to another living soul.

"As I said, you were bleeding. I applied the salve to all areas that were either bruised or looked like they would turn to bruises, which included your face, upper arms, right wrist, neck, along your ribcage on the left, and both your inner and outer thighs."

She was taken aback. "You massaged this lotion onto my inner thighs?"

He smirked. "Trust me, it was no more pleasant for me than it would have been for you."

She refrained from telling him once more to fuck off, instead asking, "What happened when you brought me back to my room?"

"Rodolphus was out. I removed your slip and placed it with your torn dress on top of your dresser. I found the nightshirt in a drawer and dressed you in it."

"Where's my bra?"

"I never saw it."

"So you saw me…?"

"Topless?" Again he smirked. "Yes. But as I said, trust me when I say it was no more pleasurable for me than it would have been for you."

"Fuck off," she snapped, unable to help herself this time. Arrogantly she added, "I'll have you know I've got a fantastic figure. You were lucky to see me."

"Fantastic figure? Please. You're getting fat," he retorted matter-of-factly. "How long do you think you can hide this mess?"

"You mean my pregnancy?"

"No, I meant your terrible personality. _Of course_ I mean your pregnancy."

She shrugged. "Indefinitely."

He scoffed but refrained from comment. "Once you were settled, I watched you sleep for about an hour, in case you relapsed. I did not wish for you to die in your sleep, namely because I do not wish to be killed by the Dark Lord for my inability to keep you alive as demanded. When I was certain you'd live, I tracked down your husband, told him you'd been punished severely and put to bed, then I found your sister, returned to the Dark Lord's chambers, summoned Him, assured Him my job was done to the best of my abilities, left your sister to further care for you, and returned to Hogwarts, to spend Christmas Eve day alone, as I prefer it. Any additional questions?" He had explained this all very coolly, in his usual unaffected way, but Bellatrix could not shake the sneaking suspicion that seeing her in that condition bothered him more than he would admit, even though it was no secret they loathed each other.

"Did you touch me?" she asked accusingly. "When I was passed out?"

"No," he replied sardonically. "I applied the salve to your bruises through osmosis."

She shot him a withering look. "I didn't mean that, I meant…"

"As I've now told you _multiple_ times," he interjected with a look just as withering, "I took _no pleasure_ in our interaction. I touched you no more or less than was absolutely necessary. Are we through?" He stood to leave.

"More questions," she answered, holding up two fingers.

"Two? Fine. Ask them quickly. I haven't got all day to tend to you."

She glared at him threateningly, though her attempt to be intimidating was largely ineffective considering her battered appearance. "First, where was my husband? If it was the middle of the night, he should have been in bed."

"He _was_ in bed," said Snape with a hint of malice. "Just not yours."

This came as quite a shock. "Who is she?"

"Is that your second question? Because I won't answer a third."

"No," she said quickly, though she certainly intended to find out who her long-cuckolded husband was suddenly fucking. "It's about the baby. You aren't going to tell anyone, are you?"

Snape smiled, a taunting, nasty little smile, and twirled his wand in his hand. "What if I did?"

"The Dark Lord would be angry." She tried to hide the rising panic from her voice. "Very, very angry. It would be a grave mistake to cross Him on this."

"You're right," agreed Snape. "The Dark Lord made it quite clear that I was not to mention your _condition_ to anyone. He seems to think it would make you appear weak to our enemies and we can't have that. It wouldn't be good for our cause. I have chosen to comply, though He insisted I also make the Unbreakable Vow, which I did."

"Who did it? Who presided over the Unbreakable Vow?"

"You asked two questions and I answered two questions. If you wish to garner more information, ask your lover."

Though this annoyed her, she nodded, and settled back against the headboard, eager for him to leave so she could take the potion and apply the salve and possibly fall asleep again. Everything hurt. She closed her good eye, waiting for the creak of the door. But it didn't come. She opened her eye. Snape was staring at her, his hand on the doorknob.

"Your husband left you," he said.

"I'm aware."

"Are you aware that he's sharing a bedroom with his brother now? They transfigured a desk into a second bed. I'm sure he'd prefer to stay with his mistress, but her husband surely wouldn't like that."

With her one good eye, Bellatrix searched his face for any hint as to the identity of this woman, but of course he gave none, and to attempt Legilimency on him would be futile. "She's married, this woman?"

"Tut, tut. Didn't I just tell you I'd answer no more questions?"

She gritted her teeth. Of course he'd brought up Rodolphus and this news of his affair simply to goad her, clearly wishing to leave while he had the upper hand. It was infuriating. Her wand hand twitched. She wondered if she could perform any of the Unforgivable Curses in her current condition. How satisfying it would feel to hit him with the Cruciatus, just once.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "And I wouldn't if I were you. When I've gone, use the salve, drink the potion. Do not let your pride get the better of you. I will check on you again in a few days. Try not to die in the interim."

"I'll do my very best," she promised sarcastically.

"Good. Happy Christmas."

"Thank you. Now kindly fuck off."

He smiled, nodded, and was gone.

Once her door was securely locked, she sank into the bed and allowed herself to cry for the first time since September. She felt lost, completely lost. She wasn't even quite sure why she was crying. Sure, she was in pain, but that wasn't it. She'd been in physical pain for two days and not cried. Why now?

Slowly, she was remembering more from the previous day. Waking up beside Rodolphus, being annoyed by his concern, trying to decide how to assuage his confusion over why a moment's insubordination at their meeting would result in an entire overnight of violent physical torture.

"He knows we slept together two nights ago," she'd finally explained, but the look on his face told her she hadn't given him enough information. "He's angry because I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Puzzlement swept across her husband's face. "How is that possible? You can't know already that you're pregnant. It's only been a day."

"I was pregnant before, you idiot," she snapped. "It's not yours. It's His."

"His?" Rodolphus scrambled out of the bed, staring in horror at his wife. "His, as in, the Dark Lord's? You're having His baby?"

"You knew about me and Him," she started, but he cut her off.

"I knew you were shacking up with Him," said Rodolphus, "As you have been for years, but pregnant? Shit, Bellatrix! How many times, how many times in our marriage have I asked you to conceive? How many times have I asked you to give me a son? It's all I've ever asked! I've never once asked you to stop what you do with Him. I've never once asked you to fulfill your marital duties when you haven't wanted to! I haven't asked anything of you at all, ever, except that I've wanted you to provide me with a son. Before we went to Azkaban, you remember? How many fucking times, how many fucking times back then did I tell you it was all I wanted?"

"I can't produce sons on demand, Rodolphus."

"But you can give the Dark Lord an heir?" He was furious, his fist balled up and raised, and for the briefest moment she thought he might strike her. "That's it, Bella. That's it, I'm done."

From under the bed he pulled a briefcase. He transfigured it into a suitcase and began moving around the room, using magic to send clothes and other necessities into it.

"What are you doing?" she asked, too tired and pained to want to spare a moment's time for his theatrics. "Knock it off."

"I said I'm fucking done, woman. I'm through with you. I'll be staying with my brother from tonight on. I'd rather bunk with him the way we did when we were kids than spend one more night sleeping beside the Dark Lord's whore."

"Well, to hell with you too then," she said, struggling with the raw feeling inside her throat that intensified with every word she spoke. "Get out."

"The next time He does you like this," began Rodolphus, pointing his wand at her face while grabbing his suitcase with his free hand, "I hope He fucking kills you."

"Troglodyte," she rasped, going for the first insult that came to mind as he stalked off to the door, turning back only long enough to throw out his own barb:

"Slag."

He slammed the door and was gone.

She was alone.

Save for the baby, she was alone.

Soon, she slipped into a restless sleep.

* * *

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the long break between posting chapters one and two. I was away at Disney World for almost a week. I also went to Harry Potter World (in Universal) for the first time which was AWESOME. Especially loved seeing Bellatrix and Voldemort at Gringotts. I recommend it! Now back to the story... and thanks for the reviews! *AL


	3. Chapter 3: Lies

**CHAPTER THREE:**

 **Lies**

When Narcissa returned it was well past lunchtime and Bellatrix's stomach was aching from hunger, but given the extreme discomfort that accompanied the swallowing of the liquid potion Snape had left, she wasn't overly keen to attempt to eat.

"You can't starve yourself," said Narcissa, setting a tray holding soup and fruit down on the bedside table. "That's not good for you or for the baby."

"Who is she?" asked Bellatrix, pulling herself into a seated position and picking up (but not eating) a grape. "The woman who's having an affair with my husband. Do you know?"

"I… what makes you think he's having an affair?" Narcissa twirled a strand of blonde hair around her forefinger, the way she did when she was a child, which drove their mother batty.

"Snape told me. We had quite the illuminating chat."

Narcissa blanched. "I… he… what did he tell you?"

"Weren't you listening? He told me my husband is having an affair! Do you know who he's messing around with? Does Lucius?"

"Does Lucius know who your husband has been sleeping with?"

"Dammit, Cissy, give me an answer! Do you know who my husband's screwing or not?"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Does Rodolphus know he's going to be a father?"

"He's not."

"He's… not?"

Bellatrix huffed. "The hell is wrong with you today, Cissy? Stammering and repeating back everything I say? You're hiding something. I can always tell. Look at me."

Narcissa shifted her gaze to the far wall. "I won't look at you."

"Because you know I can always tell."

"Because you'll rifle through my thoughts. You know I'm no good at Occlumency."

Bellatrix pulled her thick hair into a ponytail. "What are you afraid I'll see, little sister?"

"Noth… nothing."

"You lie. Look at me."

Despite her better judgment, Narcissa made eye contact with Bellatrix, who, of course, then penetrated her mind, which was a rather unpleasant feeling.

"You're trying to force me out," Bellatrix said, sounding amused. "There _is_ something in here you don't want me to see."

Terrified she would discover the worst of what Narcissa was hiding, the younger sister pushed an almost equally terrible memory into the forefront of her mind.

 _"_ _You…" hissed the Dark Lord, beckoning to Narcissa, who stood frozen in the doorway to his chambers, "You will act as Bonder as Severus makes the Unbreakable Vow."_

 _"_ _I've never done this before," whispered Narcissa, who wanted nothing to do with whatever promise Severus Snape was about to make to the Dark Lord._

 _Voldemort gave a curt nod, as if acknowledging her worry, but then said, "If you value the life of your sister, you'll manage."_

 _For the briefest moment, Narcissa thought He meant Andromeda, the middle Black sister, the one she'd never really been emotionally close to despite being closer in age. Narcissa knew that Snatchers had been after Andromeda's Muggle-born husband. Ted Tonks, for some time, and that they'd also threatened the life of her daughter, and she wondered if they'd taken Andromeda instead. Her stomach churned. She looked to Severus, but before she could ask any questions, he, presumably having read her mind, answered._

 _"_ _Bellatrix is not well, but she should live."_

 _"_ _Bellatrix?"_

 _"_ _Bellatrix has a secret," said the Dark Lord, shifting His eyes from Narcissa to Severus and back again. "A secret we do not wish to see leaked to our adversaries. Forgive me, Severus, if it seems that I doubt your loyalty-"_

 _"_ _Of my loyalty, sir, I can assure you-"_

 _"_ _Do not interrupt. I shall rephrase. It is_ not _that I doubt your loyalty, but rather that I have my reservations when it comes to trusting one's human nature. You, Severus, are only human. To err is human. So in order to protect her – and by extension, our cause – I will have you make the Unbreakable Vow, swearing that you'll not reveal her condition... or any information surrounding what led us here, assuming you understand what I mean by this. Narcissa, presumably, does not know to what I am alluding, and is therefore appropriately perplexed. Confirm." The Dark Lord nodded toward Narcissa. His last word was clearly a command. Severus placed two fingers below Narcissa's chin and guided her face toward his, making eye contact. She felt a tingle begin at the base of her neck, which traveled down her spine. They hadn't been so close to each other in some time. Adding to her anxiety was the fact that she was all-too aware he was poking about in her mind. What he sought to find she genuinely did not know._

 _"_ _She is completely unaware," Severus assured the Dark Lord, withdrawing contact. The tingle ceased._

 _"_ _Then we begin."_

 _Worry danced clearly across Narcissa's face. Of the three Black sisters, she was always least adept at hiding her true feelings, and, at the moment, she had so very much to hide. "What am I asking him to promise, my Lord?"_

 _"_ _He will keep secret her condition. He will not reveal the circumstances surrounding it to anyone. And he will, over these next five months, do all that within his power to keep her alive."_

 _"_ _Is she dying, my Lord?" asked Narcissa, a tremble in her voice._

 _"_ _No questions. Take out your wand."_

 _The Dark Lord and Severus Snape clasped each other's wrists. Narcissa hovered her wand above their hands, as she'd seen her sister do when presiding over the Vow at Spinner's End, the day Snape promised to keep Draco from harm and carry out his task, should he be unable to manage it._

 _"_ _You're aware of the incantation?" asked Severus in his usual reserved drawl. "It must be done nonverbally."_

 _"_ _Yes," whispered Narcissa. "I'm ready." She took a deep, shaking breathe in, let it out slowly, and began. "Do you, Severus Snape, vow to keep secret the current condition of my sister, Bellatrix Lestrange?"_

 _"_ _I do."_

 _"_ _Do you, Severus Snape, vow not to reveal the circumstances the led to Bella's condition to anyone?"_

 _"_ _I do."_

 _"_ _And do you, Severus Snape, vow to do all that is within your power to keep my sister alive over these next five months?"_

 _"_ _I do."_

 _Around their hands appeared three red-gold lines that moved and swirled, one after each promise, each bonding them in the Unbreakable Vow. The Dark Lord let go of Severus Snape's wrist first and nodded at Narcissa._

 _"_ _You have done as requested and may go."_

 _"_ _Yes, my Lord."_

 _"_ _You too, Severus. I wish to be alone."_

 _"_ _Yes, my Lord."_

 _When they were in the hall far enough away from the Dark Lord's chambers that they felt it was safe to speak, Narcissa grabbed Severus' arm and turned him toward her._

 _"_ _What happened to my sister?" she asked. "What condition is she in?"_

 _"_ _I have just made the Unbreakable Vow preventing me from revealing that," said Severus with a sneer she had grown unaccustomed_ _to seeing on his face. "Or weren't you there?"_

 _"I…yes. I'm sorry…"_

 _"_ _She's alive. She's asleep. In the morning, you can see her for yourself."_

 _"_ _It's already morning…" She gestured toward the window, through which the first streaks of light were shining through as the sun rose through low-hanging clouds._

 _"_ _And I've missed out on an entire night's sleep. I'm going back to Hogwarts. Only call on me in an absolute emergency."_

 _"_ _Will you also keep secret… that other thing?" asked Narcissa. Snape raised an eyebrow._

 _"_ _What an odd question, considering…"_

 _"_ _When he said my sister, I thought he meant Andromeda."_

 _"_ _Andromeda is fine."_

 _"_ _Can we be certain?"_

 _He smiled in a way that was somehow placating but lacked condescension. "You worry too much, Narcissa."_

 _"_ _I worry about my family," she replied, stepping closer to him. "I worry about everyone I care about. I'm not built for war. I'm not strong enough. You know I'm not strong enough. You've seen me fall apart." She was referring mostly to the way she'd sobbed and thrown herself at his feet the day she begged him to save her son, which he understood._

 _"_ _I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for." Now he stepped closer. They were separated by mere inches._

 _"_ _She's my sister. If the Dark Lord knew…"_

 _"_ _Sometimes you surprise me," he interjected, leaning in toward her, his hand making its way to her waist, drawing her close. "I wouldn't have thought…"_

"No!" Narcissa hadn't meant to say it aloud, but she couldn't let Bellatrix see another moment.

"What the bloody hell was that?" asked Bellatrix. "Are you sleeping with Snape? What secrets are you sharing with him?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Narcissa, refusing to make further eye contact. "Will the Vow be affected, since you'd seen into my thoughts?"

"No. Severus has been sworn to secrecy, you haven't, nor have I."

"I didn't know what they were referring to, when they spoke of your condition. I'm still not certain. They could mean… this…" Narcissa gently touched the bruising on Bellatrix's wrist, "Or that." She indicated her sister's slightly protruding midsection.

"Does it matter? Now you know I'm pregnant, and Severus does, and Rodolphus does, and the Dark Lord does too, and I'd say that's quite enough people, wouldn't you?" Bellatrix conveniently left out the name of the first person to whom she'd revealed her pregnancy – sister Andromeda, cast out of the family for marrying a Muggle-born.

"I... yes."

"Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"No."

"Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"I'm married."

Bellatrix took Narcissa face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact, intending to see for herself. "Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"I told you I'm not!" Narcissa stood, turning her back to her sister, arms folded defensively across her chest. "I'm married."

"Does it matter? Marriage? It's a contractual agreement, not a declaration of love."

"It is both," argued Narcissa, spinning around to face her sister again. "I swore to respect and honor and obey my husband when we were wed, but I also loved him then and love him now."

"You know that he cheats on you?"

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do. I can tell that you do. It's alright if you cheat on him too."

Narcissa bristled. "Your marriage of convenience is nothing like mine. I love my husband and he loves me. I married him because I loved him, not simply because of his last name and parentage and bloodline."

Bellatrix grinned. "Don't pretend his bloodline had nothing to do with it. Mother nearly died of delight when you said you were marrying a Malfoy. She kept prattling on, 'Oh, if only your father were alive to see this!' Remember?"

"I remember her saying it. I don't remember our father. Do you?"

"Of course I do. Don't change the subject. Come back, sit by me." She put on a pout, which looked even more pathetic with her busted lip. "Please? I'm lonely."

Rather than settling at the end of the bed, Narcissa crawled cross it to the place typically taken by Rodolphus. She leaned back against the ornate headboard, brought her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

"That pose makes you look very young, little sister," said Bellatrix, rolling uncomfortably onto her side. Narcissa stretched her legs out straight again and shifted enough to allow Bellatrix to place her head in her lap, the way Mother used to do when they were little girls. Also like Mother, Narcissa stroked Bella's hair, knowing well the comforting feeling of long nails working their way through her own hair from her temple, above her ear, and to the base of her spine. With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix vanished the tie holding her ponytail in place, freeing wild dark curls. Even though she was the eldest and Narcissa the youngest, she needed, in this moment, to be babied.

"Everything hurts, Cissy," whined Bellatrix, silently cursing the tears building up in her eyes. "He punished me for hours and it still hurts."

"I'm sorry, Bella." Narcissa continued to run her fingers through her sister's hair.

"Has Lucius ever hurt you, Cissy? Physically, I mean. Has he ever… has he ever raped you?"

"A nonsensical question," said Narcissa, her voice soothing and maternal. "He can't possibly, he's my husband."

"I know he's your husband, but has he… ever tried… to rape you?"

"Your question doesn't make sense, Bella. He can't rape me, we're married."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't force himself on you if he wanted to."

"He wouldn't have to. If he wants me, I'm available to him. That's how marriage works. Why are you asking?" Narcissa's voice shook as she asked, "Did Rodolphus…?"

"No."

"Oh." Narcissa let out a breath of relief. "That's good."

"Sometimes you're so dense, little sister." Bellatrix closed her good eye, from which tears were now streaming down across the top of her cheek and over the bridge of her nose, then dripping onto Cissy's lap.

"I don't understand, Bella. Tell me."

"Not Rodolphus," she said. "I don't… I don't quite remember. But the Dark Lord, He was very angry, and Severus Snape… Snape… he had to help me, afterward he had to fix me up, and he said… he told me…"

"Did the Dark Lord rape you?" Narcissa immediately ceased her actions with her sister's hair, looking horrified. Bellatrix sat up.

"I hurt so much, Cissy," she said, tears flowing even more freely now. Narcissa took her in her arms like a child. "I don't understand! I would have… I would… Like you said, with your marriage… if He'd wanted to, I would have… I… He… if He did, He didn't need to!"

"Oh, Bella," Narcissa whispered, unwilling to fully process what she was hearing. Obviously she knew He'd cursed her, beaten her, but this? Why? Why, when she was His most loyal follower? How could she be deserving of this? For what? For speaking out of turn in a meeting with His inner circle? The last time Lucius had done so, he'd suffered three minutes of the Cruciatus Curse in front of everyone and then it was promptly forgotten, lesson learned. Why so much anger for what Bellatrix had done?

"Has Lucius ever hurt you?" asked Bellatrix. "On purpose, out of anger? Hit you or… or pulled your hair… or… anything?"

"You live here, Bellatrix. You've lived here for nearly two years, don't you think you'd have noticed if my husband was abusing me? Let's talk about something else."

"Fine." Bellatrix sighed, closing her good eye for so long Narcissa thought perhaps she'd fallen asleep. "Do you ever think about Andromeda?"

Narcissa blinked, puzzled. They hadn't spoken of Andromeda – not to each other – since before Bellatrix got sent to Azkaban, save for the first time they saw each other after she escaped to Malfoy Manor and asked, "Is the blood-traitor still married?" A simple yes was all Narcissa had to say. Bellatrix spit on the ground, making clear her disgust, and that was the end of it.

"I hate to admit it," Narcissa began, wondering how honest she should be, "But I used to think about her all the time, especially when you were first in Azkaban. I was terribly lonely without you. The war had just ended, we'd lost so many friends, it was hard to know where anyone's loyalties lay – half our social circle claimed to have been under the Imperius curse – which meant we couldn't know who to trust and had to pretend like it was all alright. Lucius was never home, he was having an affair, one of his lengthier ones. Draco was only a year and a half old, he couldn't carry on a conversation, and I love him dearly but he was so needy! He cried all the time. I was a terrible mother then, a real mess. I could barely care for him. The wet nurse and nanny did nearly everything. Father was gone, Stepfather was gone, Mother was gone. I hated her so much at that time. Andromeda, that is, not Mother. If Andromeda hadn't run off with that Mudblood, she'd still be our sister, and I could have relied on her in your absence. Our children would have grown up knowing each other. Things could have been so different. To answer your question, though, no, I don't think about her, not really. Not anymore."

Bellatrix snuggled closer, her right arm wrapped around Narcissa's waist. "She's going to be a grandmother."

"What?" Narcissa pushed Bellatrix away so she could look at her. "How do you know that? I didn't hear anything."

"I don't remember from whom I heard it, but I heard the news in September and it's since been confirmed. That half-blood daughter of hers and that half-breed werewolf Lupin are expecting."

"That's bizarre. We're too young to be grandmothers."

"Especially me," said Bellatrix, again settling her head in Narcissa's lap. "I first have to become a mother."

"You're the eldest," Narcissa reminded her. "If any of us could be ready to be a grandmother, it would be you."

Bellatrix knew her sister was only teasing, but the message preyed on her sensitivities anyway. "Do you really think I'm old? Perhaps too old? When it's born I'll be a month away from forty-seven."

"And how old is the father?" asked Narcissa, too casually.

"Don't do that. Don't try to trick me into telling you who the father is. If you want to know, simply ask."

"Alright. Who's the father?"

"I'm not telling."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Promise me one thing? It's not my Lucius, is it? You'd tell me if it were?"

"Seriously?" Bella sat up again, even though it pained her to do so. "Why does everyone assume I'm sleeping with Lucius? Have I ever given anyone any indication I feel anything beyond sheer loathing for that smarmy bastard?"

"Everyone knows he'll fuck anything that moves," answered Narcissa, with an unusual hardness in her voice. "You move, so I have to wonder."

"I'm not sleeping with your husband," Bellatrix assured her. "Nor would I ever want to." She settled down for a third time. Narcissa returned to stroking her hair. Bellatrix sighed almost contentedly. "Cissy… have you ever lost a baby?"

"Yes," Narcissa answered simply. "Have you?"

"Once, on purpose, I had an abortion. But that's all. How come you never told me you lost one?"

"I've lost three."

"Three? Shit! Does this run in our family?"

"What do you mean? Did Mother lose a baby?"

Bellatrix paused. She couldn't tell Narcissa about Andromeda's multiple miscarriages without revealing that she'd recently been to see her, so instead she said, "I'm worried, that's all. If I'm at risk of losing this baby I'd like to know."

"If you must have the details, I got pregnant before I married Lucius. That's _why_ he married me. Mother made him. Don't get me wrong, we were in love – I loved him very much – but we wouldn't have had to rush…" Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before starting again. "The truth is, Bella, he wanted me to get rid of it but I refused. I like to think he would have married me anyway but I can't know. I was young and stupid and he was the only man I'd ever loved. The only boy I'd ever even liked. I miscarried three days after the wedding. I was so certain he was going to leave me for it, I cried for weeks. But he didn't. He said he loved me and wanted me to be his wife. We tried for years to have Draco and during that time I was terrified I'd never conceive again, but my pregnancy with him was an easy one. Then there were two more pregnancies after Draco. One I lost and one…" She let that last word hang in the air, unable to finish her thought.

"One…?" Bellatrix prompted.

"I'm content with one child."

Understanding dawned on Bella's face. "Ah. So you got rid of one, too?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and fought to keep her voice steady. "Last year. After Lucius was sent to Azkaban."

Bellatrix would have sprung up into a seated position again but her body was already exhausted from having done it before, so she clutched Narcissa's left wrist instead.

"Cissy, you killed your baby last year? How? When? Where did you go? How didn't I know? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't kill my baby, I terminated my pregnancy."

"It's the same damn thing. You're arguing semantics."

Narcissa opened her eyes and drew her gaze up to the ceiling, willing back tears. "I can't think of it as killing my baby, Bella. I have to think of it as terminating my pregnancy."

"Fine, then, whatever," said Bellatrix flippantly. "Tell me about terminating your pregnancy. Did you have to see a Healer? It was awful, when I had my abortion. Very painful."

"No. It was early enough, all I had to do was take a potion. Severus brewed it. It was a matter of weeks before… before he and I made the Unbreakable Vow. That's why he told me the Vow was the last favor he'd do for me, that I couldn't ask him for anything else. I know I shouldn't have done it, Bella, but my husband had just gone to prison, the Dark Lord was looking for ways to punish us, I feared I was in danger of losing my only son, and I couldn't imagine bringing another baby into… into… into this war! Another soldier for the Dark Lord, another potential casualty at the hands of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. I just couldn't do it!"

"You should be proud that the Dark Lord wanted to use Draco."

"Please, Bella, I cannot have this argument with you again. Maybe you'll understand, once your baby is born. From the moment I first held Draco in my arms… no other feeling can possibly compare."

"You love him so much you didn't desire a spare?"

"Seriously, Bellatrix?! No mother refers to her second child as 'a spare!'"

"Our Mother did. She called Andromeda 'the spare' and you 'the accident.' You just don't remember because you were so little. After she married Stepfather and couldn't conceive another, she stopped making those comments."

"I was _not_ an accident!"

"You certainly weren't planned. I'm not even sure you're Father's daughter. No one else in the family is blonde."

"You know what I think?" asked Narcissa, glaring, twirling her blonde hair around her finger. "I think after a disappointing first daughter and a disastrous second one, Mother and Father created me and were so happy with the way I turned out they didn't need any more."

Bellatrix laughed. Laughing hurt her throat, but she couldn't stop. "On the contrary, baby sister. Mother and Father were so happy with the way _I'd_ turned out, they tried to replicate me by having the spare. When she was a walking disaster they made another attempt, got you, and realized perfection doesn't strike twice in the same family so they might as well give up."

"Well, at least we can agree on one thing."

"What's that?"

"Andromeda was a disaster." Narcissa scooted down so that she was lying beside Bellatrix instead of seated. Bella moved her head from Cissy's lap to her chest, arm still around her sister's waist. She could hear the rhythmic thump of Narcissa's heart beating against her ear.

"Are you aware that there are rumors about us?" asked Bellatrix. "Inappropriate ones."

"I'm not surprised," answered Narcissa, which, to Bellatrix, was indeed a surprise. "I think my husband started those rumors. It's a bizarre, twisted fantasy of his, seeing me with another woman, you in particular. He fancies you about as much as he loathes you. He always has. He tells me these things but I ignore him."

"Men are pigs."

"I concur."

"I've been with women," Bellatrix said, casually-but-loftily, as if she was admitting to having sampled caviar. "I enjoy it, for the most part. Something different."

"I wouldn't know what to do with a woman," said Narcissa, lip curled in disgust. "I hardly know what to do with a man. And I certainly wouldn't want to try being with two people at once. I think I'd die. I'd be too uncomfortable. The thought turns my stomach. Perhaps that makes me old fashioned. Perhaps that's why Lucius cheats on me. It's the end of December and we've had sex exactly seventeen times this year. This whole year! I know; I've kept count."

"That's so sad," said Bellatrix with genuine pity. "I've had more sex with my husband and I don't even _like_ him." She tried to shift positions but winced, letting out an involuntary whimper. "Snape gave me a potion and a salve for pain relief and I used both but fuck, Cissy, everything hurts."

"Why don't you sleep now?" Narcissa coaxed her sister back to her own side of the bed. "When you wake, you can eat. You have to eat. For your own health and for that of the baby." Narcissa vanished the plate of fruit and the bowl of soup with a wave of her wand. "I'll get more later, so it will be hot."

"I don't want to be left alone, Cissy," Bellatrix whined, no longer caring about showing weakness in front of her sister. "Stay with me?"

"You sleep. I'll stay."

"You won't leave once I'm sleeping?"

"I'll stay. I promise. Close your eyes."

Bellatrix closed her one good eye, settling onto her back, not her usual sleeping position, but the least painful possibility for the moment. Narcissa closed her own eyes, exhausted from two nights of lying awake, worrying.

"You'll stay?" asked Bellatrix again, sounding very much the way Narcissa used to when they were little, when she didn't want to be alone in her bed, when she was afraid of their Stepfather and whether he might pay a nighttime visit.

"I'll stay," Narcissa promised, the same way Bellatrix always used to promise. "You sleep."

Bellatrix slept.

Narcissa stayed.

But Narcissa didn't sleep. She was consumed by guilt.

She'd never lied to her sister. Not really. She'd kept things from her – everyone does that, don't they? – which was, technically, lying by omission, but she'd never outright lied. Until now. Now within one conversation she had lied to her big sister multiple times and only once did the elder sister even question it. Either that meant Bellatrix's ability to read people was waning or that Narcissa's ability to deceive them was improving.

She could only imagine what Bella's response would be if she knew… the big secret. Disgust, anger, derision?

Perhaps, in a show of good faith, Narcissa should tell Bella the truth about Rodolphus. She knew where he'd been the night Bellatrix was punished. She knew who he'd been with. But in order to reveal this information she would have to confess how she knew, which she was absolutely unwilling to do, as it would surely lead to questions she wasn't keen to answer.

The truth was, Narcissa was having an affair. After two decades of marriage, two decades of having to act like she wasn't bothered by her husband's philandering and neglect, she had had enough. She sought out her own extramarital experience by asking, somewhat pathetically, if one of the Dark Lord's more trustworthy Death Eaters was interested in entering into a mutually beneficial arrangement with her. He was, thus they'd been seeing each other off and on (as 'on' as possible) since Easter, 1996 - almost two years ago. Lucius had become suspicious only once, shortly after his return from Azkaban, when he discovered a bottle of birth control tonic in her dresser drawer. He was furious, even though she swore she wasn't cheating on him. It was the only time he'd ever truly gotten rough with her. Or, more accurately, it was the first time he'd ever made a mark. He's grabbed her before, shaken her by the shoulders, and once, he pulled her hair, but he would never hit her in the face, never punch or kick her or hold her down, never ever _ever_ do to her what the Dark Lord was thought to have done to Bellatrix. He wouldn't, no matter how angry he got. Even this time, the worse he did was slam his cane handle down on her hand, which left a bruise. Unfaithfulness aside, he was her husband and she was his wife and those were positions that deserved respect. And, despite their difficulties, they loved each other.

She also didn't tell this to her sister, but she genuinely felt that her miscarriage, the one after Draco was born, had been a blessing. He was two-and-a-half at the time, still needy, but precocious, learning new things every day, and she was in love with him. Most importantly, Narcissa was finally starting to feel like herself again after thirty months of absolute misery.

Throughout the fifteen years that followed her second miscarriage, Lucius asked repeatedly for another baby, and starting when Draco was five, she actually tried to give him one, but there were no more pregnancies. Lucius blamed her, calling her barren, assuring her that he _knew beyond a doubt_ that it couldn't be _his_ problem, which she took to be code for "I've gotten other women pregnant." She was tempted to ask why he didn't just have a baby with any one of the little slags he kept on the side but never did, for fear he would say fine and do exactly that.

Last year's pregnancy had been different.

She wanted it.

But it wouldn't be a Malfoy.

And she couldn't have that.

Later, when he was released from Azkaban and yet again requested she try to give him another baby, she at first relented, then refused. That was part of the reason their sex life had completely dropped off. If he wasn't looking to knock her up, what was the point? If what he needed was a good shag, he could - and did - look elsewhere.

Beside her, Bellatrix stirred. Her body twitched. Narcissa could see her good eye moving rapidly behind its lid and wondered whether she was having a nightmare, whether she should wake her. She kept watch over her sister much the way she had stared at baby Draco when she was unreasonably terrified that he would stop breathing in his sleep, she kept her eyes on Bellatrix for as long as she could, watching for any sign that something wasn't right, worrying, until her own exhaustion became too great.

Narcissa dreamt about Him. The Dark Lord. She dreamt He summoned her to His chambers. He knew she'd been keeping a secret. He knew she'd been lying. He was angry. He grabbed her by the throat, held her down, pushed up her skirt…

She awoke out of breath, drenched in sweat. It took a second to realize where she was. Beside her, Bellatrix was still out cold. Breathing evenly, not twitching. Narcissa's heart slowed to a normal pace. At a loss for anything else to do, she settled back down, used her wand to summon a quilt from the top of the hope chest, and covered them with it.

This time, her last thought before drifting off was of Andromeda.

Yes, she thought of her.

Often.

Especially lately.

They had just seen each other in September. Why hadn't Andromeda mentioned that she was going to be a grandmother? How did Bellatrix know?

Maybe Narcissa wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

* * *

A/N Only two chapters left of this one. Thanks for any follows, favorites, or reviews! As an FYI, the next chapter may be too much for certain readers. Consider this your not-specific trigger warning. Hope you keep reading! *AL


	4. Chapter 4: Conflicted

If reading about violence against women is more than you can handle (but for some reason you're sticking with this anyway) that's perfectly okay, but please consider this your trigger warning and skip to chapter five. Otherwise, thanks for reading! And I wouldn't say no to a review or two! lol - Thx! *AL

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR:**

 **Conflicted**

Bellatrix had been, for lack of a better word, frustrated. Pregnancy was becoming more difficult by the day, not only more difficult to endure, but more difficult to hide, and aside from the shape of her body nothing had changed. The Dark Lord still regarded her as his most faithful servant, but nothing more – not even His mistress at the moment, which, she suddenly realized, was indeed a change, but an unwelcome one. The night she told Him she was carrying his baby, she was terrified. She had no idea how He'd react, whether He'd be pleased or angry, whether He'd want her to keep it or get rid of it. She was happily relieved when He whispered that He regarded her condition as a gift, a gift for her, from him, a reward for having been by his side since she was seventeen. She asked (hopefully) if she should divorce her husband but the Dark Lord laughed and assured her drawing attention to the matter would be the worst thing she could do. Then He'd taken her into His arms and into His bed and kissed her and held her and it was quite possibly the happiest night of her life thus far. They hadn't even made love, but she'd felt love. She loved Him. She was in love with him. She told Him often, when they were alone, how much she loved Him, how in love with Him she was. He never said it back, she wasn't sure He knew how, but she felt no confusion regarding her own feelings.

But after that tender night together, He regarded her in much the same way He did any other faithful servant. He rarely made mention of what He called her "condition," except when it meant denying her the pleasures He once would have afforded her – for example, several days ago, when the Lovegood girl was brought in, Bellatrix was excited. Fresh meat. Daughter of the crazy Quibbler editor, friend of Harry Potter, a girl Draco claimed had belonged to a group at Hogwarts who called themselves "Dumbledore's Army." Little Luna Lovegood seemed like an odd girl, flighty, not all there, a Ravenclaw who seemed too dreamy for her own house, and she was pretty. Very pretty. Pale, delicate, feminine, with long white-blonde hair and large eyes. Yes, Bellatrix could have had some fun with her. Back during the first war, Luna Lovegood was precisely the sort of prisoner the Dark Lord and Bella could have enjoyed together. But when she asked permission to "have a chat" with the girl, the Dark Lord said absolutely not. "Not in your condition."

Her condition.

She couldn't wait to have His baby and it thrilled her knowing she was carrying a part of Him, co-creating an heir for Him, but what good was the Dark Mark on her forearm if she wasn't able to be a proper Death Eater? There were precious few female Death Eaters and she had been the first. Technically, Narcissa wasn't even one, though she was included in their meetings on account of her home being used as base. The Dark Lord said this was "only polite." So donning the Mark made Bellatrix feel special.

Aside from Bellatrix herself, there were only two other women in His inner circle: Alecto Carrow, a brutish woman who'd repeatedly thrown herself at the Dark Lord during the first war only to be rebuked (though He claimed to appreciate her enthusiasm) and Hortensia Higgins, who was one of the few the Dark Lord did not punish at Little Hangleton after His return, namely because she'd remained faithful to Him despite using her young age (17, a Hogwarts dropout) to evade Azkaban after the Killing Curse backfired. Though Hortensia's Dark Mark wasn't given until after she'd been with Bellatrix in front of the Dark Lord for His viewing pleasure in early 1981, making her the youngest to join the Death Eaters (until Draco), Bella never feared He would desire the girl in the way He did her. He had long made it clear that Hortensia was "immature" and "not (His) type."

There were three other women in His just-outer circle, including Hazel Whitecrest, a white-haired older woman who'd been friends with Lucius' mother, Artemisia Crabbe, Bella's distant cousin through their shared great-grandparents, and, most recent to take the Dark Mark, beautiful Ezzalee Brooklyn, mother of Draco's friend Blaise Zabini, a woman who'd been married (and suspiciously widowed) seven times.

Over fifteen years after His fall and less than three after His second rising, Bellatrix worried constantly that He was getting from someone else what He wasn't getting from her. It could be any one of them, save for Alecto Carrow, who was away at Hogwarts (and ugly as sin).

Hell, it could be her own sister.

Bellatrix could tell Narcissa was keeping something from her. Could it be…?

No. Not Narcissa. She was afraid of Him. It sickened her to even be in the same room as Him. She hated having Him under her roof, even though it should have been an honor.

So not Narcissa… but how much did Bellatrix really know about the others? About Hortensia? About Ezzalee?

Damn it.

It was stupid, giving herself to her husband the way she had.

But she was lonely, longing to be touched, and he was there…

The next day, at their meeting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor, the very room in which they'd tortured and killed former Muggle Studies teacher Charity Burbage, the Dark Lord had talked about His plans for young Luna, held in the basement dungeon, and His belief that Potter and friends would soon seek to speak with Lovegood and could therefore be captured.

What had she said? What had she said that made Him so angry?

She couldn't remember.

She wished she could remember.

Instead, she remembered other things.

In her sleep, she remembered other things.

Being summoned to His chambers that night. Being scolded. The way He'd laughed when she corrected His grammar, the way His eyes had flashed madly when He saw into her mind and discovered what she'd done…

And afterward.

She was stuck in her own head, not entirely asleep but unable to wake, lost in the memory of two night's prior.

He'd grabbed her by the hair. He'd thrown her to the floor.

He'd used His wand to inflict upon her the Cruciatus curse. Three times He tried to torture her this way, and three times she successfully threw it off, just as He'd taught her.

She could see it all, not from the perspective of having lived it, but from outside. In her sleep, she stirred and twitched. She felt like she was back there, as if watching her own memory through a Penseive.

"You dare to throw off my curse?" He asked, pointing His wand directly at her face. "You dare to continue to defy me, your master? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I think I'm your most loyal servant, my Lord," she said. "But I cannot allow you to use the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"Cannot allow me?" His laugh was high-pitched and gave her chills. "You cannot _allow_ me? You cannot stop me!"

For a fourth time He called out "Crucio!" pointing His wand at her, and for a fourth time, she threw off the curse, though it was getting increasingly difficult.

"If you plan to kill my baby," she said, half-out of breath, glaring defiantly up at Him from the floor, "Use the Killing Curse to take us both out at once. Otherwise, I'll continue fighting back against this torture."

"The baby," His voice went soft, which was scarier than if He yelled. "You're worried about the effects of my curse on the baby. Very well. That's understandable, Bella. Stand. Face me."

Weak-kneed, she stood, set to thank Him and apologize, but before she could say a word, He grabbed hold of the back of her hair, forced her back down to her knees, and struck her across the face with His fist.

"Perhaps I shall remind you of your place without magic." He struck her again. She tasted blood. "Perhaps I shall teach you a lesson the Muggle way." A third time, He hit her. Her eyes filled with involuntary tears she couldn't will away.

"Please, my Lord," she begged, but He laughed.

"How many times, Bella? How many times have I told you, you belong to me! How many times over the years, over the decades? You _belong_ to me."

She refused to speak.

"And always you answer the same. 'I don't belong to anyone.' That's what you tell me, is it not?"

"That's what I tell you," she confirmed. She moved to wipe the blood from her lip but He slapped her hand away, His other hand still entangled in her hair.

"Tell me you belong to me," He demanded. "Say it."

"I will not," she said. "I don't belong to anyone."

"Insufferable, insubordinate woman." This time, His fist connected directly with her eye. The pain was worse than that of the Cruciatus Curse, resonating through her socket into the back of her brain. She felt as though her eyeball had exploded, like her cheekbone had shattered. Still, she refused to say it.

"You belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone."

Again, He hit her.

"Say it."

Why was she being so difficult? He was her _everything_. Her master, her lover, the only man she'd ever loved, the father of her unborn baby, the Dark Lord to whom she'd been a devoted follower, for whom she had proudly done time in Azkaban. Why, then, was it so impossible to say, "Yes, I belong to you."

She knew why.

Her stepfather was why.

He used to tell all three girls the same thing. After he married their mother. "You're _all_ my girls now," he'd say. "You belong to me."

And she would tell him the same thing she'd later tell the Dark Lord. Even at seven years old, she'd said it.

 _"_ _I don't belong to anyone."_

"You weren't supposed to be with Lestrange," said the Dark Lord, pulling her head back so she was facing up at Him. "I made that abundantly clear to you."

"He's my husband," she argued.

"You're a whore," He replied.

"Fuck off," she said.

He chuckled, obviously amused by her strong will. "Fuck off? With pleasure."

Bellatrix yelped with pain as He yanked her to her feet by her hair. He tossed her toward the bed. She hit her knees against the wooden footboard. Before she could straighten up He was behind her, His fingers on the front of her throat. His hardness pressing against her ass.

"I'll teach you to be defiant with me, Bellatrix Black," He said, and for the briefest crazy moment she was comforted by His omission of her married name. The relief was short-lived, however, as He began tearing at her clothing with one hand, increasing the pressure on her throat with the other. She was struggling to breathe. Little white speckles of light began to dance across her field of vision as she realized she would soon be blacking out.

This is where her memories went truly fuzzy.

She remembers coming to with Him on top of her. It hurt, and not in the good way she was used to with Him. She struggled to escape His grasp but He held tighter, pressing His left hand so hard against her inner right thigh she knew it would leave a bruise.

"Please, my Lord," she tried to plead, but it was difficult to get the words out. She clutched His shoulders and attempted to push Him off of her, while only seemed to further enrage and excite Him, as He grabbed her wrists together with one hand and pinned them above her head.

"You little bitch," He hissed, his mouth an inch from her ear. "You've always thought yourself to have a higher status than you do, but you're no better than any of the others. You're _nothing_."

His words cut deeply, causing as much pain in her heart as she felt in her busted face. Despite her desire to continue with her earlier acts of defiance, she felt herself falling apart. She began to cry. He slapped her. She cried harder. He slapped her again.

"Weak!" He admonished. "You're weak." He forced himself deeper inside her.

"Please, stop." She hated this. And what's more, she hated that experiencing this reminded her of all the times she'd done precisely this, or helped Him do this, to the Mudblood women they'd together held captive during the first war. It had seemed relatively harmless at the time. The women were always Muggle-born, after all, hardly worth a second thought, and they were going to be killed directly afterward anyway. But suddenly, and for the first time in her life, she felt guilty about it, about the pain she'd inflicted on them, the pain she'd enjoyed giving them in the moment. "Please, Master. You're hurting me. Please… please stop."

He responded by flipping her over so that her face was pressed against the pillow.

"Quiet," He said. "Your pleading is pathetic."

She was wearing only a slip. She didn't remember Him removing her dress or underwear. He forced the slip up and slid back into her.

"You think you can defy me? Talk back to me? Fuck around on me?"

"He's my _husband_ ," she said weakly, tasting the salt of her tears, which mixed with the dried blood on her upper lip before dripping into her mouth. Again, He responded to this statement with one of the worst insults he could possible lob at her, second only to _"You're nothing."_

"You're a _whore_."

How she hated that word.

She closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear, wondering what He'd do if she attempted to apparate away, knowing that wouldn't work even if she tried, and in a matter of moments she had passed out again.

The next time she awoke, He was off of her. She was vaguely aware of Him in the room, she could hear Him moving and smell Him, and feel Him nearby. She was sore. Everywhere. There was moisture on her thighs and between her legs. Maybe blood. Maybe semen. Maybe both. Her right hand made its way slowly to her midsection. Had there been any damage to the baby?

"My Lord," she whispered into the darkness, terrified of Him and yet prepared to beg Him for aide.

"You're awake." His voice was cold, calculating. "About time."

"My Lord?"

"Return to your own room," He demanded. "I have no desire to see you now."

"My Lord…"

She didn't think she could get up and she certainly could not walk. How long had she been in His chambers? Exactly what – and how much – had He done to her?

"Defying me again, Bella?" He moved to the bed. She flinched as His hand, yet again, made contact with her throat. "I told you to get up and get out."

"I… can't…"

"You can and will."

"I…" She choked back a sob. "I can't."

"Then maybe you haven't learned your lesson," He said. He tightened His grip on her throat, positioning His body over hers.

She shook with silent sobs as He strangled her until lack of oxygen made her lose consciousness.

She didn't awaken again until the next day, Christmas Eve day, in her own bed, beside her husband. Confused. In pain.

She'd told Rodolphus what happened. Told him about the baby. Told him the identity of the baby's father.

And he'd left her.

She was in a terrible state between half-awake and half-asleep, trapped in a living nightmare, unable to open her eyes, unable to drift off. She remembered everything.

She remembered everything, which meant she could no longer deny to herself what Snape had told her. He was right.

She'd been raped.

She'd been raped by the Dark Lord.

She wanted to vomit.

"Bella?" asked a voice from somewhere far away. "Bella, wake up. Bella, you're trembling."

She opened her eyes. Well, her eye. The one good one.

The room was darker. It was past dusk. She was in bed under a quilt with her sister.

"You were crying in your sleep," explained Narcissa. "I decided to wake you. Besides, you need to eat."

"Eat?" whispered Bellatrix, consumed by all she had just seen in her half-asleep state, all she suddenly remembered. "I can't eat."

"You have to," insisted Narcissa. "You have to do what's best for the baby. And what's best for the baby is that you eat. I'll make more soup, okay? How about soup?"

All Narcissa knew how to cook was soup. Some housewife. She was completely unskilled at anything that didn't involve bossing around a house elf.

"Bella?"

"Fine," answered Bellatrix, eager to be alone. "Go make soup and I'll eat it."

"I'll be back shortly." Narcissa kissed her older sister on the forehead and hurried from the room. Bellatrix hugged her arms around herself. Only a minute or two passed before there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" she called, but her voice was still too weak to carry across the room. She waved her hand, which made the door open a few inches. Draco poked his head in.

"Auntie, can I come in?"

She nodded.

"Harry Potter was nearly captured yesterday," Draco said. This perked Bellatrix up. She pulled herself into a seated position.

"Nearly?"

"He went to Godric's Hollow with Granger – that Mudblood girlfriend of his – to see Bathilda Bagshot."

"Bathilda is dead," said Bellatrix.

"Yes," confirmed Draco. "The… the snake…" (he gave an involuntary shutter) "The snake was possessing her. The Dark Lord almost had him, but he escaped, again, thanks to his friends."

"He'll be angry," she said, terrified of what would presumably have been her Master's reaction to this. "He will want to see someone punished. How did you come by this information, Draco?"

His already pale face went paler. "I… I can't answer that, Auntie."

"Why are you here? To give me information without telling me where it came from? I told you I can't help you with your Occlumency today." They made eye contact and in that instant she bore into his mind, searching for the answer to her question. She was somewhat pleasantly surprised when he forced her out. "But perhaps you don't need continued practice?"

"I was hoping you could teach me to throw off the Imperius Curse," he said. "Not right now," he added hurriedly.

"Perhaps tomorrow. I'd like to teach you the Cruciatus Curse too. Bring a small animal, if you can find one. A mouse would be ideal. I learned on a mouse. I was your age when He taught me."

"Okay…" Draco said slowly, but the thought of finding a mouse so he could use it while learning how to commit torture turned his stomach. As much as he wanted to be like his father and please his aunt and serve the Dark Lord, he had to be honest with himself - he didn't have the disposition for it.

"I wouldn't be bothering you at all, Auntie, but You-Know-Who sent me to bring you this…" Draco held out a square black box, about half the size of a paperback book. "He wants you to open it only when you're alone."

"Thank you, Draco," she said, taking it from him. She placed it beside her on the bed. "Did he say anything else?"

"He asked if you're looking better but I told Him I didn't know, since I wasn't allowed to see you yesterday."

"Is that all?"

Draco nodded. "Sorry."

"How did He… seem? Was He angry?"

Draco didn't answer. He stared down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. Bellatrix leaned curiously closer to him and he flinched, scooting back an inch. She raised one eyebrow. "Draco? Are you afraid of me?"

"I don't want to upset you," he said.

"With what?"

"There was a meeting last night. Only for select members of His inner circle. It was me, Father, Rodolphus, Rabastan, the Carrows, Snape, Yaxley, and Hortensia."

Bellatrix bristled at the inclusion of Hortensia.

"Mother wasn't even allowed in. Neither was Hortensia's husband."

That's right, Hortensia had recently gotten married. Bellatrix had forgotten. Not that it meant anything. The woman could still be sleeping the Dark Lord. After all, being married hadn't stopped Bellatrix.

"What was discussed at this meeting?"

Draco shrugged, suddenly overly interested in the pattern of the wallpaper. "I'm not supposed to reveal it."

"Did He say anything about me?"

"Only that you had displeased Him and it may be awhile before He could trust you with anything important again."

She clenched her teeth. She bet Snape and Rodolphus and Lucius loved hearing that. Damn it. After all she'd sacrificed for Him, all those years in Azkaban.

"But then He was furious about failing to capture Potter with Nagini. He said if you'd been there beside Him, we'd have Potter now. He said sometimes He thinks you're the only one who even tries."

"He… did?" Her heart gave a little jolt. Maybe all was not lost.

"Then He went round the table one by one and hit us each with the Cruciatus Curse. He said it was a reminder of what will happen if we continue to fail Him. He said He wants Potter delivered to Him before dawn on New Years Day. Then He sent everyone out. When He summoned me a little while ago, I thought it would be about that, something about Potter, but instead He handed me the box and instructed me to give it to you to open only when you're alone. I don't know what's in it. Will you tell Him… that I told you… about the meeting? I couldn't even tell my mother."

"It's alright that you told me," she assured him. "Thank you. You may go."

Draco was clearly content to be dismissed. He hurried from the room without another word. Bellatrix wandlessly locked the door once he was out.

She picked up the black box and held it in both hands, feeling its smoothness, wondering what could be inside. Wondering why He'd sent whatever it was with Draco. Wondering if it was something that would bring her the comfort she craved, or further pain.

She held the box in both hands, wondering if she even wanted to know.


	5. Chapter 5: Summoned

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

 **Summoned**

Bellatrix Black Lestrange had long considered herself the Dark Lord's most faithful, most devoted, and most respected follower. His most valued, most enthusiastic, and most loyal servant. Others could make the same claim – others did, often – but she knew they were all fighting for second, including that pathetic groveling mess Wormtail and that two-timing probable traitor, Snape. Even Barty Crouch, Jr. had renounced the Dark Lord at his trial after the first war, around the same time Lucius Malfoy's gold kept him from being charged and the Carrows insistence that they'd been under the Imperius Curse kept them out of prison. She alone had pushed His followers to search for Him. She alone had insisted upon torturing the Longbottoms for information. She alone called out her devotion to Him during her trial and never once wavered in it, never once pretended to have been anything but a Death Eater, a sadist marked by a touch of insanity, a faithful follower completely in love with the man she called Master.

She hadn't always called Him Master.

The night they met in the pub down Knockturn Alley, when she was reading Magick Moste Evile and He asked to join her, He had given her a different name.

"Riddle. Tom Riddle. But soon the entire Wizarding World will know me only as Lord Vodemort, a name that shall be so feared none will dare speak it."

"Yes, sir," she'd answered, polite and transfixed. Later, long after it had become unacceptable to say "Voldemort" and she'd switched to calling Him "My Lord," she'd reflect on the fact that her fellow Death Eaters had no knowledge of His birth name. With the possible exceptions of those who remembered Him from Hogwarts, when He first began to gather followers, the Knights of Walpurgis (as they were originally known) were completely unaware that their Master was the same Tom Riddle who'd once received an award for Special Services to the School, which she'd discovered in the trophy room during detention shortly after returning for her seventh year. She had then sought to learn all she could about the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, the leader of a pure blood movement who would capture both her attention and her affection, and, on the eve of their very first encounter, take her virginity.

That first night, the name she'd whispered in His ear at His request was "Voldemort," and it was also the name she cried out when He made her feel the way she never thought possible, not in the arms of a man, not like this.

Now she alternated between calling him "Sir" and "Master" and "My Lord," though every once in awhile (during the first war) He would ask her to call Him Tom. The few times he made such a request always occurred in bed, never in conversation or in passing. And she could never, _never_ use that name without express permission. This much was made abundantly clear.

In turn, He called her Bella, a nickname that had, up until that point, been reserved for usage only by her two younger sisters, started by Andromeda who, until age five or six, couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs, and therefore called her "Bewwatwix." This trend was continued by Narcissa, who couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs either, thus chose to call her simply "Bewwa."

"Bewwatwix, watch me!" Andromeda used to call. Then she'd do something stupid, like a wobbly summersault, scramble to her feet, and throw her hands up like a champion, awaiting her score.

"No Bewwa, washhh me!" Narcissa would try to copy, flopping over, pulling herself into a standing position, tossing up her own arms.

"Good job!" Six-year-old Bellatrix would say over and over, half-watching, fighting the urge to roll her eyes after every less-than-impressive little stunt. "Wow, look at you!"

And the littler girls would clap for themselves and rejoice because their big sister thought they'd done something to be proud of. Then they'd do it again. Over and over and over. Each time, begging her to watch, seeking her approval.

It was pathetic.

They were annoying.

So why did she miss Andromeda so much?

And why couldn't she confide in Narcissa?

Bellatrix sighed, running her fingertips over the black box Draco delivered a short time ago. She could only imagine what her mother would say, if she could see her now. They had spoken only once after Bella's arrest.

"You brought shame upon our family," her mother had said. The only reason they'd been permitted a visit was because their mother sat on a very large amount of gold, inherited from her parents, deceased first husband, and tragically murdered second, and she knew exactly how to throw that gold around – not by bribing anyone, no, but by making the right contributions to the right people when it came time for elections to be held or Wizengamot appointments to be made, and she knew those she had helped along the way would help her later, when she needed it, like now.

"Are you a blood-traitor too, Mother?" asked Bellatrix coolly. She was thirty years old, confident in her decision to torture the Longbottoms for information, and certain her Master would return, so she no longer feared the woman who'd brought her into the world.

"You know I'm not," her mother had hissed, eyes darting around to see if the Ministry guards were listening. "I supported His cause, but He was destroyed. Taken down by a baby, for goodness sakes. These are precarious times. Your sister and her husband are struggling to keep our of Azkaban for the sake of their son, our old friends are being sentenced left and right, we all have to pretend we're happy about this 'Boy who Lives' nonsense, and what does my eldest daughter do? Seek a low profile? Attempt to save herself? Drum up some remorse or pretend to have been under the Imperius Curse? No. She runs off with a gang of Death Eaters and tortures into insanity a couple who are – were – very well-liked by Dumbledore and those in charge at the Ministry! Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix laughed, choosing her next words carefully.

"You don't care about me, Mother. You don't care that I'm going to Azkaban for the rest of my life. You don't care about what awaits me there, the Dementors, the endless years, the inevitable insanity. You care only because by refusing to hide away my true loyalties I've potentially besmirched the family name! You've come not to see that I am well or to convince me to save myself, but to see if there's any way you can save your own reputation! I shouldn't be surprised. You've never been terribly concerned with protecting us girls. Only with keeping up appearances. As long as we appeared to be doing well, that's what mattered, eh?"

"I'm not the problem here, Bellatrix," their mother snapped, gathering up her traveling cloak. "You are. You're selfish."

" _I'm_ selfish? _I_ am selfish? You, Mother!" Bellatrix stood too, squaring off, pointing at her mother, wishing she hadn't been relieved of her wand. "You, Mother! _You_ are selfish! You married a man for money and status and because of his bloodline, you married him a matter of months after Father passed, and you knew what he was doing to us – you knew! And you looked the other way for all those years because it was the best thing for _you_! What kind of mother lets her husband have her daughters like that, night after night? Fuck, Mother, Narcissa was practically a baby!"

"Don't use that language with me, Bellatrix." One of the Ministry guards by the door moved forward, wand at the ready, clearly expecting to need to break up a fight. "As for… for what you're implying… he told me the truth. He told me you'd try to fill my head with lies about him. You never liked him, even though he was good to us!"

"He did _awful things_ to us!"

"He says you seduced him!" Her mother's shriek had reached glass-shattering level. There was no way the guards couldn't make out every word. "He says you seduced him and filled the younger girls' heads with the same lies you're trying to put in mine! You've tried convincing me of this nonsense before, Bellatrix. It didn't work then and it will not work now!"

"Go!" Bellatrix pointed toward the door. "Get out. I don't want you here. I'd rather live a thousand lifetimes in Azkaban than spend one more second in this room with you."

"Very well." Her mother fastened her cloak and spend off toward the exit. "But don't expect me to use my connections to try and get you a lighter sentence."

"I don't need your connections," snapped Bellatrix, who was dying to scream out "Avada Kedavra" and be done with this. "I don't need anyone! Mark my words, Mother. Lord Voldemort _will_ be back. Yes – don't look at me that way. I'm not crazy. I'm right! The Dark Lord _will_ rise again! And when He does, He will know that I alone was loyal, that I alone searched for Him, and that I alone refused to sell out my beliefs to avoid prosecution. Throughout my entire life He has been my _only_ protector and my _greatest love_ and someday He and I will rule the Wizarding World together. You'll see!"

The Ministry guards escorted her mother from the room and brought her back to her holding cell. They had so many witches and wizards awaiting trial and so many already in Azkaban that the prison was full, so they'd taken to using this full guarded temporary jail until each could be processed. Bellatrix would be transported in the morning. Aside from the day of her trial, she wouldn't see outside Azkaban's walls again for another fourteen years.

The last conversation with her mother replayed itself in her mind countless times as the Dementors sucked away all of her happiness, as did the many, many memories from her childhood that she'd long ago tried to suppress.

To counteract that, she forced herself to focus on every happy memory she refused to let them take from her. Namely of her various encounters with Him, which were dark enough that passing Dementors couldn't sense they were supposed to be good though it didn't hurt that He had taught her so much about controlling her emotions and locking her mind.

Sure, she supposed she'd gone a _little_ insane during her decade-and-a-half behind bars, but mostly, she was the same person she'd been before… right?

A knock on the door interrupted her brooding. Figuring it was Narcissa back with the soup, she waved the door open. In walked Severus Snape.

"Fuck," she said, rolling her good eye. "You again?"

"I missed you too," he said dryly.

"Why have you returned? Forget something?"

"Only a bit of information your sister insisted I share with you."

"Can't she share it with me herself when she's done making soup?"

Snape leaned back against the closed bedroom door, regarding her carefully. "Not Narcissa."

Now Bellatrix was interested. She sat up straighter, wondering if Snape knew that she'd been in touch with her other younger sister, afraid he might know what Andromeda knew – or, more accurately, terrified he would know _that_ Andromeda knew.

"Her daughter and the werewolf have reunited," said Snape, as if disinterested. "I believe you know that they're expecting."

"Why would Andromeda think I'd care about this?" asked Bellatrix, careful not to give any indication that Snape was correct.

"She sent me with a message for you."

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "When you said you had information my sister insisted you share with me, I figured that meant she sent you with a message. I'm not an idiot."

"You're not?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "News to me."

"Bugger off you big-nosed bat."

"If you don't want to hear it…" began Snape, turning as if to go, Bellatrix stopped him.

"Nonsense. You came all this way."

"All this way from the kitchen," said Snape. "I could just as easily…"

"What's my fucking message?"

He tsked. "So impatient. Fine. Andromeda wants you to know that her daughter and the werewolf have reunited. As you are aware, your niece is pregnant. As you may or may not be aware, your sister is terrified that you seek to murder your aforementioned niece."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Bellatrix. "That metamorphmagus Mudblood almost murdered my husband the night we took down Mad-Eye Moody. She deserves to die for that alone."

"Your beloved husband," murmured Snape. "Yes, I'm sure you'd have been heartbroken had he succumbed to his injuries."

"That's not the point."

"It so rarely is," said Snape, again leaning suspiciously casually against the door. "In any case, your sister has asked me to inform you that, should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor. She did not, in case you're curious, tell me what this secret is, but she seemed to think you'd be most disinterested in sharing whatever it is with the whole Wizarding World."

"She agreed to shut up about it," said Bellatrix.

"Did she make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"No, but she promised."

He scoffed. "A promise? Perhaps that was before Death Eaters returned to her home."

"What?"

Bellatrix knew Death Eaters had briefly tortured her sister and brother-in-law for information at the end of the summer, but she'd heard nothing about them being sent back. Why would the Dark Lord send anyone else to Andromeda's home – and why wouldn't Bellatrix know about it?

"Yesterday," said Snape. "You were otherwise occupied. They were looking for the werewolf, having just learned of the end of the couple's estrangement. I was among those sent."

"You told me you weren't here yesterday because you had pressing business at Hogwarts!" Bellatrix pointed a finger at him accusingly. He shrugged.

"I did indeed have pressing business at Hogwarts," he said. "I took an hour away from that to call upon your sister, as per our Master's orders."

"Stop calling her my sister. She has a name."

"Mrs. Tonks," Snape corrected.

"Not that name! Call her Andromeda."

"If you wish. I was among those sent to see Andromeda. Dolohov hit her with the Cruciatus curse the moment we were inside her house –"

Bellatrix interjected. "How did you get in? I told… I… she should have protective wards in place."

"She does. Once they were broken and we were inside, Dolohov aimed for her. Your niece – excuse me, Nympadora – entered then and disarmed him. Hortensia raised her wand -"

Bellatrix cut him off. "Hortensia was there too?"

"Perhaps the Dark Lord thought the task required a woman's _touch."_

Bellatrix scowled. She loathed the way he emphasized 'touch.' "Continue."

"Hortensia raised her wand, but Andromeda said, 'I wouldn't if I were you.' She looked to me, I held up a hand to pause the others, and we waited to hear what she had to say."

Bellatrix leaned forward, even though doing so pained her, and whispered, "What did she have to say?"

"Weren't you listening earlier, you dolt? She said 'should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor.' I thought I was perfectly clear."

"What did Hortensia and Dolohov think she meant?"

"I don't think they had a clue, but I did. So I told her we came seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the werewolf. Tonks – Nympadora – assured us that he, like her father, is on the run so they couldn't tell us where to find him even if they wanted to, but she couldn't stop herself from adding that she wouldn't tell us even if she knew. Hortensia and Dolohov were itching to play a little longer, perhaps work out a bit of pent-up aggression, but I told them the Dark Lord would be most displeased should Andromeda make good on her threat, so we left."

Bellatrix was fuming. The Dark Lord had been right. Her 'condition,' and knowledge thereof, made her a weakness for their side. She sent a sideways glance at the black box He'd sent with Draco. Surely knowing this would make Him angry.

"I did not tell this to the Dark Lord," Snape said. He had a knack for knowing what she was thinking, even without exercising his Legillemency skills. "Rather, I advised Nympadora to stay out of our way, then, before departing, altered the memories of both Hortensia and Dolohov so they believe that we tortured both women for some time."

"Why? And why tell me this now? Why not earlier?"

"I wasn't planning to tell you this at all, as I figured it would only make your blood-lust for your niece greater."

Bellatrix flushed. He was right. The way her sister was choosing to use her secret made her want to inflict pain on both of them, and what better way than by killing young Tonks?

"I've just come from a discussion with the Dark Lord during which He mentioned you," said Snape. Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, you said you were down in the kitchen."

Snape sighed. "I had a discussion with the Dark Lord. When He released me, I felt hungry. I went down to the kitchen briefly, ate, and am now here."

"What did He say about me?"

"He wants you to be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

"Murder Nymphadora Tonks."

Bellatrix's stomach twisted painfully into a pretzel. She was figuratively trapped between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. She couldn't defy a direct order from her Master, but she couldn't risk the world learning her secret either. The only way it could be done would be if she also killed Andromeda. Her own sister. Could she do that? Could she end the very existence of the little girl who used to beg, "Bewwatwix, watch me!" and wait on tenterhooks for the inevitable applause and "good job"?

Yes.

Yes, if she had to, she could.

What was family but blood?

And what good was blood if it wasn't pure?

Certainly, she could take away Andromeda's "Miracle Baby."

And, if she had to, she could take away Andromeda's life.

"I wouldn't," said Snape, again as if reading her thoughts. This time, though, he was staring at her eyes, and she wondered if reading her thoughts was exactly what he'd done.

"Why not?"

"Nymphadora is pregnant. The same sort of magic that protected Harry Potter as a baby might also protect your niece's unborn child. The Killing Curse could backfire on you. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

She shook her head, disappointed and frustrated. "What of Andromeda?"

"If you were to kill her, surely her daughter would come after you, and then what? Then risk the Killing Curse rebounding? Is that wise… in your condition?"

Her condition.

Damn it.

She was so sick of the words "Your condition."

"I told the Dark Lord that it would not be wise for you to target Nymphadora at this time. He understands and agrees. In His words, 'We shall leave the Metamorph be, for now.' I thought it was necessary to share this with you, though for the record, I do not enjoy meddling in your family affairs."

"Why wouldn't that same magic protect me?" asked Bellatrix. "The Killing Curse could not rebound on me because of… my condition."

"It was love that saved Harry Potter and it would be love that could save Baby Werewolf. Can you say for certain _your_ baby would benefit from the same protection? Is your baby carried in love? Was your baby _created_ through love?"

"None of your damn business," she snapped, but she was bothered by this more than she'd ever admit. Love. Did she love her baby? Yes. Yes, of course. She loved it because she loved Him and it was His and hers together. But was it created in love?

One-sided love, perhaps.

She doubted that would be enough.

"Have a lovely afternoon," said Snape, reaching for the door handle. "I don't expect I'll be seeing you again soon. Shall I send Narcissa up now with the soup? I believe she put onions in it."

"I hate onions," pouted Bellatrix.

"Narcissa says they're good for your eyes."

"What?" Bellatrix let out an exasperated sigh. "No, she's an imbecile. It's carrots that are good for your eyes. Onions are good for shit."

"I thought kale was good for that? Leafy greens are a high source of fiber."

"I didn't mean… damn it, Snape. I meant onions are good for nothing!"

Snape was chuckling at his own joke. Bellatrix threw a pillow at him. It landed about a foot from his feet.

"Whatever she put in it," said Snape, gently tossing the pillow back onto the bed, "Eat it and pretend to like it. She's working very hard to throw together something edible. The least you could do is be grateful."

"Grateful? I'll probably die of food poisoning."

Snape shrugged, still half-smiling. "Well, one could only hope."

Before she could formulate a clever response to that, he had gone.

While waiting for Narcissa and whatever awful concoction she'd brewed (seriously, onions in soup? Unless the soup was French onion soup, onions were never an acceptable soup ingredient, and even then, only the cheese was truly worth eating) she replayed Snape's questions over and over again in her head.

If she were attacked, if her baby were to be attacked, would there be any magical protections?

Was her baby going to be born from love?

Was it created from love?

Hell, could the Dark Lord Voldemort even _feel_ love?

She sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep, but sleep was not forthcoming. Too many thoughts reverberated around in her mind, none of them welcome.

Bellatrix had considered her feelings toward the Dark Lord "love at first sight" (technically, more like "lust at first sight" and "love at first fuck") and thought (well, hoped) that He shared her feelings based on their intense initial connection, but it wasn't until shortly before Christmas of that first year she thought she knew how He felt about her. It was around then, during a Hogsmeade visit she snuck away from to be with Him, that He began asking questions about her past experiences with the opposite sex, wanting to know all about her, informing her that she now belonged to Him and could be with no other.

"I don't belong to anyone," she'd said defiantly, but immediately following her statement she insisted that He was the only one she wanted, needed, or had ever had… willingly.

He, being curious, probed her mind (with permission) using His Legellemency skills, and discovered the most recent incident with her stepfather, which had occurred over summer break. The Dark Lord watched her memory as she walked in on a tall, average-sized middle-aged man with facial stubble kissing and petting a silently sobbing blonde of about twelve or thirteen. Bellatrix flew into a rage and cursed him, a crime of underage magic as she was still two weeks from 17, and he responded by physically taking her wand away.

The man shouted for the little blonde to leave and slapped her when she didn't move fast enough. He then pinned Bellatrix down on the bottom bunk of the bed that had just been vacated by her sister. He groped her, attempting to kiss her neck, but she fought back, digging her nails into his cheeks.

Even though she had yet to study a moment of Occlumency, Bellatrix instinctively attempted to push Him from her mind. The future Lord Voldemort relented, but questioned her thoroughly.

"What did he do to you?"

"That was it," Bellatrix said. "He tried to pull my hands away but then my sister Andromeda came in and started screaming for Mother. When I tried to tell Mother what happened she accused me of attempting to seduce her husband."

(That was only the first of many times their mother made this particular accusation.)

Appearing confused, the Dark Lord sought clarification. "That was your mother's husband?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix, tossing her hair back, hoping it seemed that she was not at all bothered by the fact that He'd just witnessed a slice of a decade of abuse that she never intended to reveal to anyone, least of all Him. "My stepfather."

"No," said the Dark Lord, shaking His head. Damn, He was so handsome then, before war took its toll, before He had become entirely focused on quest to achieve immortality. "No, this won't do. We can't have that. Who was the little blonde? Andromeda?"

She'd previously told Him about Andromeda.

"No, Andromeda is fifteen. That was my youngest sister, Narcissa."

"Narcissa." He hissed her name as if speaking Parseltongue, which gave Bellatrix goose pimples, but not in a bad way. "Where is your stepfather now?"

"At home, I suppose." She stepped away from Him, unwilling to make further eye contact, feeling absolutely humiliated by his knowledge of her greatest secret, her secret shame. "In three days He's supposed to be taking Andromeda Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. She's dreading it. Mother's forcing her to go."

He stepped to Bellatrix, sliding His arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against Him so her back rested flat against His chest. She could feel His breath on her ear. "In three days. Why isn't she in school?"

"She was sick." Bellatrix hugged her arms around His, happy to be so close. "She nearly died."

"He touches you? All of you?" asked the Dark Lord. Despite the comfort of His arms around her, she could feel fury radiating from Him.

Bellatrix stared straight ahead at the bedroom wall, too ashamed to answer.

"He touches you." This time it was a statement. "Has he done more? Was I your first?"

"You were my first," she confirmed, turning, pressing her chest to His, making eye contact. "He's never raped us. He says he likes that we're virgins."

"You _were_ ," the Dark Lord corrected. "You _were_ a virgin. Now you're mine and I'll not share. I told you that you belong to me, didn't I?"

"You told me."

"That means you're mind. And I don't share what's mine."

Catching a glimpse of the concern on her face, He smiled. "Don't worry, Bellatrix Black. Your master will take care of things."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

He tipped her chin up, lightly rubbing His thumb over her bottom lip, then captured her mouth with His own. Then He took her to bed, claimed her as His own, and held her until the sun rose through the curtains. She knew she'd be in trouble for disappearing from Hogwarts overnight, she knew it would likely mean she'd lose the privilege of visiting Hogsmeade and a January full of detention, but she had no regrets.

It was the first time she'd truly felt safe in over ten years.

29 years ago He murdered Stepfather in front of Andromeda and in all these years since, Bellatrix never wavered in her devotion. Now suddenly she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew.

She didn't believe Him to be infallible. This was evidenced by the fact that He so vehemently trusted Snape, which she believed was a mistake, no matter what her Master and her sister and her brother-in-law insisted about the former potions master's loyalties, and despite the fact that he'd just today lied to the Dark Lord to protect her (or, perhaps, to protect her niece and sister. With him playing both sides, she couldn't be sure).

She also feared that the Dark Lord's advancing age (he was now a week away from 72) was impacting His decision-making abilities. Why hadn't He killed Harry Potter right away in the graveyard? Immediately after extracting his blood? How had He let the boy escape?

And at the Ministry over a year ago, why had it taken so long for Him to arrive? Sure, at first they were merely battling six teenagers in an attempt to steal a prophecy, but sure He must have known when the Order showed up that they would be outnumbered and potentially over-powered. Where was He? And when He finally arrived, He failed to kill Dumbledore – a fact Narcissa had accidently blurted out when begging Snape to protect Draco from the task – and He didn't even try to save any of His other loyal followers.

At the time, she'd been pleased by this. Upon His arrival she immediately began to beg forgiveness, and before disapparating away, He grabbed her and her alone to take with Him. That night He'd been furious. Lucius and the others were in Azkaban, everyone knew He was back but not at all in the way He'd planned, and He'd been thwarted yet again by Harry Potter. He was unable to obtain the prophecy, a considerable setback, and He had no one to punish for it, save for her.

But He didn't. To her surprise, He directed His anger toward Narcissa and Draco as wife and son of Lucius, and not toward Bellatrix, who'd actually been one of those who'd failed to complete the task. Instead that night He praised her, saying that she and Severus were the only two He could truly count on. As much as she hated hearing Snape's name listed alongside her own, she was encouraged by His lack of punishment and so she made love with Him for the first time since He'd freed her from Azkaban six months earlier. For a year while her husband, his brother, and her sister's husband were locked up, she lived quite contentedly, spending most nights in the embrace of the Dark Lord.

When the mass exodus from Azkaban occurred a year later, the Dark Lord was thrilled. It signified his control over the Ministry and it also meant He had most of His best servants returned to Him. But secretly, she hated it, because it meant a return to the bed she shared with her husband in a guest room of Malfoy Manor.

And as long as she was thinking about times He'd disappointed her lately, how was it He'd managed to lose Harry Potter yet again when Nagini was possessing Bathilda Bagshot? Two kids against the greatest dark wizard of all time?

A knock sounded. Bellatrix waved the door open. It was Narcissa, finally bringing soup.

"It's got vegetables in it," she said, placing the bowl on her sister's bedside table. She also set down a plate of what smelled like garlic bread. but looked a tad too toasty.

"My cooking gets better all the time," said Narcissa, as if seeking approval, in the same tone she'd used as a girl when pleading _Watch me!_ "I practice in the kitchen whenever Lucius is out." Lucius did not believe his wife belonged in the kitchen. Cooking was the work of house-elves and commoners. "I'll leave you alone to eat. I have to go to Christmas dinner with Lucius and Draco and… and possibly You-Know-Who, should He join us. But I'll be back after dessert."

"Thank you," said Bellatrix. "It looks good."

Narcissa smiled, partially pleased and partially relieved, then kissed Bellatrix on the forehead. "Have a house-elf fetch me if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," Bella assured her. It was the truth. The healing salve and potion for her throat seemed to be working, speaking wasn't as difficult or painful as it had been hours earlier, and though her head was a jumbled mess, there was an odd sort of peace in knowing she'd be sleeping alone, since Rodolphus was bunking with his brother.

After Narcissa made her exit, Bellatrix looked longingly at the black box, unwilling to give into the temptation of opening it, unsure how long she could hold off from doing so.

As she ate, a different memory implanted itself in her brain. A happy one.

The first night they were together after He'd broken her out of Azkaban nearly two years ago.

"I've missed you," He hissed against her earlobe, just before his lipless mouth and snakelike tongue began making its way from the side of her neck, down her clavicle, to the top of her breast, to the lace of her corset. She moaned as he touched her. It had been fourteen years since she'd last been touched.

Though she was desperate for Him and sensed it was mutual, He seemed to be in no hurry to undress her, instead taking His time as if He needed to relearn every curve of her body. By the time they were naked, she was writhing uncomfortably against Him, needing Him, practically begging Him.

"Please, please, take me, my Lord…"

"Patience," He'd whispered. "I want to enjoy you."

He entered her first with His fingers as she dug her fingernails into His back, again begging Him to take her. He laughed.

"Still my Bellatrix," He said. "So wanton. Have you missed me?"

"Every moment, my Lord. I looked for you. I alone…"

"You alone knew I would return. You alone never wavered in your loyalty."

"Never, never my Lord. I knew you would… I knew you… would…"

As He sped up the motion with His fingers, she found it increasingly difficult to utter a coherent thought. With the hand that was not now scratching across His shoulder blades, she stroked His length, faster and faster.

"Fuck," He said, an unusual (Muggle-esque) word for Him. He grabbed her thighs, parting them, and plunged into her. "My Bella," He moaned into her thick, unkempt hair. "Mine."

"Yes," she replied over and over in between kissing His neck, His shoulder, His cheek, kissing Him though she was hardly able to breathe. "Yes… yes…"

He slid one of His hands back down and played with her as He fucked her. She felt her orgasm building, the first one in over fourteen years, and the anticipation made her dizzy. He kissed her and she felt the overwhelming waves of satisfaction ripple over her. He finished a moment later, never slowing His stride, and, like always, rolled onto His back, pulling her to rest on top of Him, and said, "You belong to me."

She couldn't say it. She couldn't say "Yes." But she also couldn't say "No." So instead, she placed a kiss in the direct center of His chest and answered, "I love you."

He didn't say it back, but that was okay. She felt loved.

Her soup finished (she couldn't even recall tasting it) Bellatrix picked up the small black box. Whether it would bring her joy or pain no longer mattered. She needed to know what was inside.

She slipped off the top.

Inside, a smaller box.

She opened that one.

Resting atop cloudy gauze, was a thin silver band.

A ring.

Her heart fluttered in that uncomfortable way it had taken to doing lately.

A ring?

But she was married.

And He'd always said…

She removed it. It felt cold to the touch, but made her fingers, hand, and arm go warm. It was thin and silver with one large green stone flanked by two smaller green stones – they looked like emeralds. Silver and green: Slytherin colors, of course.

Inside the top of the second box were six words: _I do not enjoy hurting you_.

As close to an apology as she would ever get.

She held the ring up, wondering whether she should put it on, wondering on which finger she should wear it and what to say if anyone asked about it. A reflection in the band caught her eye. There was an inscription.

She read it twice. The first time, she laughed. The second, she nodded.

Inside the ring in thin script, it said, "You belong to me."

Unable to collect her thoughts, she slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Once it was on all the way, she felt a new tingling sensation, this time in her opposite forearm. Her Dark Mark was raised and visible. She alone was being summoned. She stood, which wasn't easy, and quickly combed her fingers through her hair. The Dark Mark burned deeper, almost painfully. She needed to go to Him.

Now.

You belong to me, it said inside the ring.

Yes.

As much as she tried to deny it, as long as she tried to deny it, it was true.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, hovering the tip of her wand above her forearm. "I belong to you. Forever."

She touched the tip of her wand to the Mark and disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for sticking with Part Two of the Augury Origin Tale trilogy! The third, DYING FOR THE DARK LORD, is being posted NOW, which will answer any lingering questions you might have after this one. If you're a Snape/Bella shipper you may like the second and third chapters... or maybe you won't. As I said in a reply to one review, this story is definitely Bellatrix/Voldemort. Hope that's okay! Please read/enjoy.

Because I kinda fell for Narcissa during the drafting of these three stories, I have decided to give her her own story, tentatively titled WANTING NARCISSA: An Augury Origin Spinoff, which will explain, among other things, the scene between her and Snape after she presided over the Unbreakable Vow, but beginning far earlier, at Spinner's End (it's not a romance, though there is some smut/lemony stuff included. Mostly it's like this one - dark, sort of sad, with details about her childhood, her relationships with her sisters, her marriage, and the weird connection all three Black sisters seem to have with Snape). Fingers crossed you'll be interested in that one, too.

Thanks for the follows faves, and reviews. *AL


End file.
